


Damocles

by cypheroftyr, The_Arkadian



Series: Reflections [5]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Depression, M/M, Near character death, Past Abuse, Verbal Abuse, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-17 00:35:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 33
Words: 251,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1367416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cypheroftyr/pseuds/cypheroftyr, https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Arkadian/pseuds/The_Arkadian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zevran comes to collect his due from Invictus. It's not so simple as that, when you add a former abomination to the mix and a heartbroken elven warrior who doesn't take his appearance well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Fenris had gone to the study and locked the door behind him. He’d never wanted to see the other elf again, and now he’d threatened Anders over him. The mage didn’t know, yet. When he didn’t hear footsteps pass by again, he’d figured that they were still in the room with the assassin or had retired to the kitchen to talk.

The elven fighter unclenched his fist and hissed at the pain that shot up his arm and radiated almost to the elbow. “One day I will learn not to do such things to myself, but that is not today.” Fenris muttered as he cradled his arm to his chest and went downstairs to face his lovers. He found them in the foyer, sipping tea and chatting quietly. He cleared his throat to get their attention but did not advance to either man’s side.

Anders fell silent and glanced over to him. He took in the way Fenris cradled his arm and set his mug down on a nearby table, crossing over to the elf with a concerned look. He reached out towards the elf’s arm then hesitated, glancing at the elf’s eyes. “May I?” he asked quietly.

“Please.” Fenris said quietly, his gaze troubled.

Anders laid a hand gently on the injured arm, closing his eyes briefly. “You’ve broken several bones in your hand, including three fingers,” he sighed as he set to work, gently pouring healing magic into the hand, guiding shattered bone to regrow, easing the inflammation and bruising and soothing away the pain with a deft, light touch before letting his hand fall. “How does that feel? Any stiffness?”

“A little.” Fenris said quietly. He wanted to apologize but instead found himself unsure how to proceed. He didn’t know if Invictus had told him of what had transpired between himself and Zevran. “I…” he started, then faltered when more words would not come.

“I’m sorry,” Anders blurted out. “Hawke told me what happened but I - Fenris, Zevran is an old friend, and I can’t let you hurt him. I - he must have had his reasons for what he said and did, and I don’t believe he meant to hurt you. Zevran doesn’t give himself lightly like that. Please, love, give him time to recover and explain himself.” He stared at the elf anxiously, hunching a little unconsciously as though subconsciously trying not to tower over the elf quite so much.

Fenris didn’t speak right away, instead he took a long, deep breath and looked away in anguish. His heart was fragile, despite what others thought of him and the rift Zevran had left had been ripped open with his reappearance. “Fine, but if he kills Vic or me, it’s on your head.” the elven fighter rasped before he turned away. He didn’t want either man to see him cry over the other elf’s hurting him.

“I will answer for anything he does,” said Anders quietly. “He won’t kill either of you, I swear it.” He stared back at Invictus, worried and nervous.

“He’s a trained assassin, and he was in our room and could have slit all our throats easily. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Fenris said harshly.

Invictus got up and went to him, tipped his head up so they were eye to eye rather than the elf staring to the side. “Love, I think between the three of us we can contain him. Why don’t we go back to bed and try to get some sleep, there’s still some time before dawn.” 

“You go back to bed, I cannot sleep with him in our house.” Fenris said as he pulled away from Vic and glowered at the nearby wall.

“I’ll go watch over Zevran,” said Anders quietly. “If it makes you more comfortable, I can set a ward on the door so only I can leave that room.”

“Do whatever you want Anders, nothing will make me comfortable with him here.” Fenris said sullenly.

“Love, please it would make me happy to have you next to me for a few hours in bed.” Vic pleaded.

“I can’t, his blood still stains the floor and every time I look to the corner I will see him. Just go Vic, I need to be alone for a while. I’ll be in the study whenever you awaken.” Fenris said before he glanced up at his lover then headed up to the study once more.

**

He was hot and yet cold at the same time. His whole body ached, but his side worst of all. He wanted to roll away from the pain but all the strength seemed to have left his body. He was drifting in and out of fever dreams; or were they dreams? He couldn’t tell. There was a screaming glowing elf with murderous eyes that seemed to come at him with a huge sword but when he blinked, the elf was gone and a pair of dark amber eyes were regarding him with a worried look.

He turned his face away, head rolling listlessly on the pillow. Sweat dampened his forehead, plastering his blond hair to his face; he wanted to push it out of his eyes, but his body wouldn’t respond. No matter; he had endured worse discomfort.

He was burning up from the poison. Or was it fever? He could not remember. He was very ill. He was thirsty; so thirsty.

Had he spoken? He didn’t remember speaking, but a hand was beneath his head, lifting him slightly, the rim of a glass against his lips. He drank, thirstily, gulping down the cool water gratefully.

“Zevran, can you hear me?”

The voice was familiar, but it couldn’t be him. He was dead, wasn’t he? All the Wardens were dead, even his own Warden.

Ah, why could he not die? He should not have lived after his Warden’s death. He had not meant to, and yet here he was. Maybe he was dying now. He tried to laugh, but only a racking cough escaped his chapped lips.

“He’s delirious,” a voice said quietly. “His body is fighting the last of the poison.”

“Is there nothing you can do?”

“No, his body has to deal with this itself.”

“What is he trying to say?”

“Something about dying.”

 _Yes, yes, my dear Warden; death comes to us all; why not me?_ The elf would have smiled, but everything hurt.

A different face looming over him. Didn’t he remember this one? A boon. A favour.

“Hawke,” he managed to rasp.

“Ser Crow.” Vic said with a gleam in his eye. “I do wonder how you wound up full of poison and still entered my estate. Malum must be getting old.” 

“A Crow no longer,” Zevran murmured. “They tried to kill me, but perhaps I am too stubborn to die, yes?” He coughed, his voice hoarse. “They should have tried harder... my Warden awaits me....”

“Pity you’re made of such stern stuff. Be glad Anders likes you, else you’d be rotting in the nearest shallow grave. He’ll take care of you, unfortunately.” Invictus kept his voice stern, his gaze hard. After the way Fenris had fallen apart in his arms the night before, poured out his grief and hurt, Invictus was not eager to help the Antivan.

The elf’s eyes were glazed as he stared back up at the mage, bright spots of red upon his cheeks the only colour in his face as beads of sweat rolled down his face. “Anders is dead, they are all dead, so much death,” he breathed. “Soon I shall be dead too, but there’s nothing, nothing left for me to lose any more, don’t you see? Each death, another piece of my soul, a little tiny piece... little birds, pecking away, pecking away....”

“He’s gone again. I’m going to go check on Fenris, you can stay with him. Call me if anything changes.” Vic sneered as he backed away from the babbling elf. 

“Isabela,” breathed Zevran, his eyes closing. “She will give me peace. A life for a life and I can rest. So tired....”

Anders stared at the elf, worried. “Hawke... he wants to die,” he said quietly.

“Let him then, I won’t weep at his pyre.” Vic retorted, his demeanor back to the one that made people cower in fear of him, run from the Champion. The man at Anders’ side was not the one that had let the former warden into his heart but one that would tear it out in an instant.

Anders stared at him, real fear in his dark amber eyes as he backed away. “Zevran is my friend,” he said bravely even as his heart began to race. “I can’t do that.” His back hit the bedpost and his hands lifted, palms out, as though to ward off a blow.

“I’m not going to hit you, don’t ever think that.” Vic huffed in exasperation. “Just, I will not be fussed if he happens to expire from his wounds. After the way...after last night, after the way Fenris ...I just can’t deal with _him_. You didn’t see how hurt he is, just… heal him so he can be on his way.” Vic said finally.

“You can’t see your own face,” breathed Anders. “If you could have seen the look you just gave me... I was half afraid I was about to get dragged off to the Gallows. Maker, Hawke, you can still terrify me.” He clutched behind him at the bedpost then sagged down onto the end of the bed.

“I’m sorry Anders, I did not mean to do so.” Invictus tried to relax, make himself less menacing as he stood back. “I’m still shook up from seeing Fenris laid low last night. I just...it’s hard to see him so damned fragile, it hurt me to see it. Just do what you can so your friend can be on his way.” 

Anders ran a hand over his face then pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. “He came here for a reason,” he said quietly. “Why? He keeps rambling on about Isabela and a promise. Yours, or his?”

“One he wrested from me. I promised to get Isabela back from the Qun, but my life will likely be forfeit the second she’s free and sees me.” Vic sighed. “Just take care of Fenris alright?”

Anders stared at Invictus, then at Zevran, who was muttering to himself incoherently as he rolled his head on the pillow, tossing feverishly. “‘A life for a life’,” Anders said quietly. “I wonder....”

“It doesn’t matter, once he’s awake he’ll want me to make good on that promise. Just...take care of him once it’s over. I’m going to see if I can get Fenris to take breakfast. He was just staring at the wall when I came in here.” Vic sighed in resignation as he stared at the Antivan elf. “I survive all that bullshit just to have this come due the same night.”

“Hawke, you’re not going to die!” said Anders, staring at him. “Please stop saying that, you’re scaring me!”

Vic folded his arms and stared at Anders. “Anders, he’s an assassin. Isabela will likely want my life in exchange for whatever the Qunari have put her through. Or she’ll use her favor from him to end me. It’s a no win situation for the guy everyone loves to hate. You’re scared? Well so am I, I’ve finally got my head on right and now it seems this will be a very short lived second chance.” 

“I won’t let anyone kill you,” said Anders. “Do you honestly think Fenris will stand by and watch you die? I don’t pretend to understand the half of what’s going on, but there has to be some way we can fix this. You can’t just... just give up, you’re the Champion!”

“I’m just a man Anders, one who is tired of his life being turned on it’s head with no room to breathe. We’ll see what happens when your Crow is lucid and can explain himself. I don’t think Fenris will even let me get out of the house or he’ll give not one fuck about your friendship with him and rip out his heart to save me. I just want a damned break Anders, I want a week where nothing weird happens, where no one wants to kill me or I have to kill them. But apparently that was too much to ask.”

Invictus suddenly looked tired, he looked his age and he felt at least ten years older as he made his way to the door. “I’ll be back after I’ve tried to rouse Fenris, I might need your help with that if he still won’t budge. If you’ll help him.” 

“Of course I’ll help him,” said Anders, his voice quiet and subdued.

“If you want to, I know Zevran is your friend.” Vic said tiredly. “And you’ve had both of us threaten his life in less than a day. I’m just tired, so fucking tired Anders. I’ll be in our room when you’re free.”

“And you and Fenris are both my lovers,” said Anders quietly. “I still love you both.”

“I don’t doubt that but everyone has limits. You already told us both you won’t let him come to harm, so where does that leave us Anders? We literally jumped worlds with you, and yet you’d defend him without even knowing the full story.” Vic opened the door and gave the other mage a sad smile. “It won’t matter in the end, I should have known that any measure of happiness I’ve managed to get was to be short lived.” 

With that Vic shut the door and returned to their room where Fenris was still a curled up lump under the covers, unmoving and eerily still except for the slow rise and fall of his side. 

Anders groaned as he dropped his head into his hands. “Zevran, what in the name of Andraste’s flaming knickers have you done?” he muttered.

“I am sorry,” murmured the elf. “I have made your life very complicated, my friend.”

Anders turned and glanced at the elf; Zevran’s face was still damp with sweat, but his eyes had a clarity that had not been there before.

“How do you feel?” asked the apostate as he rose and came closer.

“Very weak,” admitted the elf, lifting a hand briefly before letting it fall.

“Bloody typical you become lucid after Hawke’s gone,” groaned Anders as he reached over to lay a hand upon Zevran’s forehead. “You’re still hot,” he remarked, then stared down at the elf as a thought struck him. “Or was all that just an act? Were you lucid all along?”

“No,” replied Zevran. “I think I was... rambling earlier? Fever dreams, perhaps. It was only Hawke’s final remarks that really made any sense.” He blinked, tired. “He has the wrong idea of course.” He smiled faintly. “But then my reputation precedes me, no? Ever must people think the worst of me; and all too often they would probably be right.”

“How wrong?” asked Anders, folding his arms as he stared down at the elf. “Is it true? You would kill him for Isabela?”

Zevran shook his head. “No,” he sighed. “He and Fenris, they leap to conclusions, never thinking perhaps they are the wrong ones.” He gestured weakly at the bed beside him. “Sit, you loom so. You are tall, even for a human.”

Anders knelt on the edge of the bed. “So, explain to me how they’ve got it wrong?” he asked.

“I asked Hawke a favour; to help me rescue Isabela from the Qunari; this much, I think he has told you, yes?”

Anders nodded.

“So. He thinks that Isabela will wish to kill him for giving him up, yes? But I granted Fenris a boon also, to name at a time and place of his choosing. He has not yet chosen.”

“I... don’t follow,” said Anders slowly. Zevran sighed.

“Should Isabela call out Hawke, I gave Fenris my boon so that he could name me Hawke’s Champion. I will fight in his stead. Hawke would not survive a fight against Isabela, but if I face her, then Hawke need not die and nor need she. I do not always fight to kill, my friend; and I think I am tired of killing.” Zevran smiled sadly.

“You mean to let Isabela kill you,” said Anders softly.

Zevran shrugged. “Should she best me, it will be her choice whether or not to spare Hawke’s Champion.”

“Fenris will never believe this,” said Anders quietly. “If you so wish to die....”

“I wish Isabela to be free,” said Zevran quietly. “What happens to me after does not matter.”

“What happened to you, Zevran?” asked Anders softly.

“My Warden is dead,” said Zevran bleakly. “And with it my reason for living. I thought, for a time....” He glanced away and closed his eyes. “Fenris may hate me. But Hawke owes me this favour.”

“He’ll make good on it,” said Anders. “I know him; he will not break his oath.”

“That is all I ask,” said Zevran weakly. “I am tired.”

“Sleep,” said Anders gently.

**

Anders paused in the doorway of the main bedroom, hesitating on the threshold in indecision as he stared over towards Invictus and Fenris. Both had their backs to him, and he had approached silently.

Vic spoke quietly to the elf, but he might as well have spoken to the wall for all Fenris responded. “Love, please say something. This turning in on yourself frightens me.”

Anders leaned against the door frame, resting his head tiredly against the polished wood. A faint “mew?” made him look down as a small furry body rubbed against his ankle. He reached down and scooped up the grey kitten, depositing her on his shoulder as he leaned back against the wooden frame post once more, watching the others silently.

Vic growled in frustration as Fenris continued to keep a silent vigil. He turned finally and saw Anders lingering in the doorway. “Don’t just huddle there come in.” 

Anders pushed himself away from the door frame and walked slowly into the room, circling around the bed to stand in front of Fenris. He stared down at the unresponsive elf, then dropped down to a crouch so his eyes were on a level with the blank green gaze, wincing a little as his knees creaked in protest. The kitten blinked green eyes at fenris then leapt down off Anders’ shoulder, running under the bed.

“Fenris,” he said quietly.

The elf glanced at him then back to the wall before he rasped his name in response. “Anders…” was all they got from him.

“That’s it?” said Anders quietly. He lifted one eyebrow, then reached back with one hand to brace himself as he lowered himself to sit crosslegged on the floor, his eyes never leaving the elf’s face.

“What do you want from me? Did Vic drag you in to make me talk?” the elf muttered as he looked away from the mage.

“No,” said Anders. “Do you want me to go away again?”

“I want that elf gone from our house, until that happens I want to be left alone.” Fenris snarled before he shot a dirty look at Invictus.

“He’s not going anywhere,” replied Anders. “Hawke made him a promise.” He leaned forward a little, resting a forearm on the edge of the bed. “And right now, I’m not going anywhere either. So you can tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, or I can sit here staring at you.” He rested his chin on his forearm and smiled. “What’s it to be?”

“Then I hope you like looking at me. I don’t have to tell you or him anything about what’s going on in my head. Figures that you decide what I need, what’s next going to schedule my day for me?” Fenris snapped before he gave Anders his back and tried to keep calm. If he went to pieces again as he had the night before, the elven fighter didn’t think he could bounce back from it.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” replied Anders, his breath warm on the elf’s back. “And as it happens, I _do_ like looking at you. I could do it all day. Just watch.” He lifted his other arm up onto the bed and rested his cheek on his forearms, staring at the lyrium lines traced across the warm skin.

“Leave Anders, do not test me right now. The next time I lose my temper, I do not wish to direct it at you instead of the wall.” Fenris growled as he stared across the bed towards the fireplace instead of the blond that seemed intent on annoying him.

Invictus sucked in a breath and waited to see how Anders replied before interceding with them. The last thing he needed was for Fenris to crack again.

“At least you wouldn’t break your fist,” Anders murmured quietly. He continued to stare at the elf’s back, eyes tracing the whorls of lyrium as they curved over the elf’s hip. This close, he could almost make out the faintest scars of the knife cuts that had incised the metal into the elf’s flesh.

“Then I suppose you want me to break your face?” Fenris said angrily. He closed his eyes and tried to stay calm. He knew if he lost his temper he’d hurt one of his lovers and that wasn’t what he wanted. He just wanted to be left alone, why was that so hard to understand.

“Anders...please, don’t make it worse.” Vic pleaded.

“He’s angry at me, and he has reason to be,” said Anders quietly. “If hitting me makes you feel better, then go ahead.” He sat still, not lifting his eyes from the line of lyrium he was following.

“I’m not fucking hitting you. Stop goading me Anders.” Fenris said as he sat up and glared at them both. “Can’t you just let me alone when I ask Vic? Must you both nag me until I lash out? Will you not be satisfied until I’ve hurt one of you? Fucking mages...I can’t have my own say with my own damned feelings in this house.” He said angrily as tears fell and he turned away once more to clutch the pillow and try to block them out.

Anders remained where he was, his breath now warm against Fenris’ side, a near-silent reminder of the apostate’s presence.

“Get off me Anders, I swear to Maker I’m going to beat you if you don’t back off.” Fenris snapped as he tensed, ready to swing if the mage got any closer to him.

Vic came closer, afraid of what his lover would do if further provoked. “Love, please we’re trying to help you. You ...we wouldn’t mistreat you. We’re just scared when you turn in like that.”

Anders held still, his breathing becoming much quieter as he drew shallower breaths, eyes fixed now on a particular spot of lyrium on Fenris’ hip. His self-preservation instincts were screaming at him to back away - but the healer in him screamed even louder to stay where he was.

Fenris twitched as he felt Anders presence behind him then swung on instinct at the mage’s head with a snarl. “I said back off!”

Anders’ head snapped back under the force of the blow and he felt something give inside with a sharp crack. He sprawled back upon the carpet, stunned, as blood streamed down his face from his nose; he was silent as he fell. He blinked, dazed, too stunned even to lift a hand to his face.

“Fenris!” Vic said as he went over to help Anders up. Anders blinked at him, his gaze unfocused as he hesitantly lifted a hand to his face, his movements unco-ordinated. As Invictus got him to his feet, the apostate stumbled and nearly fell to his knees again. He spat out a mouthful of blood.

“Come on, let’s get you in a chair. I’ll get some cotton for that.” Vic said as he steered the other mage towards the overstuffed chair. He glanced at Fenris who seemed stunned at his own actions. The elf was staring at his hand then back at Anders with a remorseful look.

“I...I…” he stuttered before he backed away from both of them and curled against the edge of the bed. 

Anders stared back at him with glazed eyes as he slumped in the chair before his eyes rolled back and his head dropped, blood still dripping down onto his chest.

“Keep him upright while I get supplies.” Vic snapped at the elf before he bolted down to the closet where they kept a spare kit. 

Fenris did as he was asked without a word in protest. He felt terrible as he tried to get Anders to respond but the mage was out for the count. He moved out of the way when he felt Vic drop to a crouch next to him.

“Don’t you dare leave this room Fenris. Just don’t.” Vic said as he wiped Anders’ face clean and checked him over for injuries. Anders’ eyes fluttered briefly and he made a faint noise as Invictus’ hands carefully felt around his jaw and the base of his skull.

“I can’t tell if it’s his nose or skull that’s cracked. Why does the healer always get hurt around here?” he huffed. Anders’ eyes drifted half open and he made a faint sound of protest, flinching away slightly from Invictus’ hands.

“Stop moving, I can’t tell where you’re hurt.” Vic said as he cast healing on the other mage.

Anders managed to open his eyes, though his gaze was still unfocused. “Mean right hook,” he said thickly.

“Yes...I know.” Vic muttered with a dark look to Fenris. “What hurts, your head or just your nose? I can’t tell what’s making you bleed so much.” 

Fenris had retreated to the bed and watched them silently. He wanted to crawl under the nearest rock and never come out but Vic was on a tear and he’d likely get chewed out before the noon bells.

“Head,” Anders managed. “Can’t think straight. Can’t... focus.” He stared in Fenris’ direction. “Two elves,” he slurred. “Which one of you is Fenris?” He swayed drunkenly.

“There’s just one of me.” Fenris said quietly with a glance to Invictus. 

“Nope just one, the world has had enough of two Fenrises in one place.” Vic muttered under his breath. “I swear to Maker we’re going to have a long talk once Anders isn’t seeing double.”

Anders put a hand to his forehead, then clutched his stomach. “Think... gonna be sick,” he said queasily. “Room spinning.”

Vic got a vase and tucked it into Anders hands. “Here, once you’re done sicking up, he’s going to get some willowbark tea going and bring it to you.” 

Fenris didn’t wait to be sent to the kitchen, instead he went down to make the tea as ordered. He made the tea and returned with a tray that had a pot of the remaining tea along with oatcakes that Orana had made him take. “He...here.”

Anders was slumped in the chair, face pale and sweating slightly, drifting in and out of consciousness as Invictus tried to rouse him, as Fenris returned. A bruise was purpling along one side of the mage’s jaw, lurid against the pale skin as it spread back beneath his ear. Anders must have managed to turn his head slightly as the elf’s punch connected, Fenris realised, and suddenly the mage’s symptoms and behaviour made sense. As Fenris set down the tray, he approached the insensate mage and gently traced a hand around behind Anders’ ear, feeling across the skin around the back of his head until he felt the point where the skull had cracked under the force of his blow.

Anders’ eyes drifted open as he felt the elf touch him. He opened his lips as if to speak but his eyes rolled back again.

“Here Vic, that’s where...it’s where I landed the hit.” Fenris said as he backed away once more. 

“Good job, cracking his skull. Why not just go straight for his heart it would be faster.” Vic snarled as he directed healing to where the elf had pointed out, his touch gentle as he probed the other mage’s head for any other damage. The few healing lessons that Anders had given him were unfortunately coming in handy as he worked.

Anders groaned as he drifted back towards consciousness once more, his eyes opening slowly. “Good job I wasn’t... really trying to rile you,” he tried to smile. “Ow.”

“Not you, Fenris. I was being sarcastic.” Vic said as he worked to keep Anders lucid. “No sleeping either, you need to stay awake and talking as much as some of us might be irritated by it.” he said with a dirty look to their elven lover.

“I’m sorry Anders.” Fenris said quietly, his head bowed and his whole posture tensed for a return blow or worse anger from either of them. He hated this side of himself, the side that was still wild, harsh and lashed out rather than dealt with problems by talking.

“Having seen what you do to our enemies, I’m lucky you didn’t take my head clean off,” replied Anders. He pressed a hand to his forehead and groaned. “Maker, I feel like....ugh.” He closed his eyes. “So tired.”

“It’s no excuse for hitting you that hard.” Fenris said with a hitch to his voice. He glanced at Invictus then back down to the bedding. “May I be excused for a while Vic, I would like breakfast.”

“You don’t need my permission to go eat,” Vic responded, his tone softer now that Anders wasn’t so out of it.

Anders pressed a hand gingerly to the blackening bruise with a wince, then frowned as he tried to draw together his thoughts enough to work healing on himself. “Like trying to think through cotton wool,” he muttered as a weak blue glow surrounded his fingers, and then he sighed with relief. “Next time you tell me to fuck off before you hit me Fenris, I shall take due note.”

That made the elf cringe and curl further in on himself rather than go eat as he’d mentioned. “You can hit me in return.” he said quietly as he looked towards the mage. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” he whispered brokenly.

Anders’ eyes widened and he jerked his head up then winced as the incautious movement sent a lance of pain through his head. “Maker!” he exclaimed, closing his eyes against a brief wave of dizziness. He swallowed hard then opened his eyes again. “I’m not going to hit you, Fenris, I’d be the last person to do that! What kind of a man do you think I am?”

“I hit a mage, it’s what I expect ser.” Fenris said as he sat on the bed, hands clutched in the bedding and his head down. 

“No. No, no, no,” said Anders as he pushed himself to his feet, swaying unsteadily as another wave of dizziness swept over him. He gritted his teeth and grasped at Invictus’ shoulder to steady himself for a minute as he pressed his other hand to his head. “No. You’re not going to do that. Stop it, stop it _right now_.” Anders’ voice shook as he took a step towards Fenris, then another. “You’re not in Tevinter now and I’m no magister. Stop that.”

Invictus came over to his lover and helped Anders to sit down next to Fenris. He took the elf’s face in his hands and made him look into his eyes. “Love, please. You are not going to that place again. You’re free remember? Yes I’m angry, and hurt but you’re not _there anymore._ You’re never, ever going to be chained again. Please, never ever call him ser, never call me ser. Tell me you understand?!” Vic said in a panic. 

The last time Fenris had spiraled that badly it had taken days to get him to realize he wasn’t in that dark place in his head, he wasn’t a slave any longer and he was able to make his own choices. 

The elf glanced down and swallowed nervously. “I struck a mage, being struck in return is what I expect in response, or worse.” He refused to keep eye contact with Vic and glanced down as he awaited retribution.

Anders shook his head and instantly regretted it, biting back a small noise of pain. “Fenris, don’t,” he said quietly. “I’m not going to hit you. It was my own damned fault and I’m not going to blame you for it, much less punish you. No-one is going to hit you, punish you or do anything to you.” He laid his hand upon Fenris’ knee.

“I hit you after I said I wouldn’t; I lied, Anders.” Fenris said morosely.

“Love you did warn him, please don’t go down this road. I beg you.” Vic asked as he turned the elf’s face toward him again. “I love you so much, I can’t see you fall down like this. You’ve been free for years, please don’t do this to yourself.”

Anders groaned and dropped his head carefully into his hands, massaging his aching temples with his fingers tiredly. “Fenris, you were angry with me. I’d already pissed you off by getting in the way between you and Zevran, and you warned me to back off. I didn’t. I’m already paying for the consequences of that, you don’t need to pay it too.”

“I’d like to go be alone now.” the elf said with a jerk of his head away from Invictus’ grasp.

“Love, I don’t think it’s a good idea. You’re already in a bad place, if you go off by yourself I fear what you’ll do.” Invictus said softly as he let Fenris go.

Anders remained silent, pressing the palm of one hand against his forehead as he closed his eyes.

Fenris moved back and curled back up on the bed, a pillow clutched in his arms and his breathing hitched as if he was going to sob again. Anders opened his eyes briefly as he felt the elf move away, but remained still where he was, afraid an incautious movement would make his head split open again. He was tired, it was hard to think straight, but he knew Invictus was talking sense.

“Fenris, I’m going to get us breakfast, will you please stay here with Anders?” Vic asked quietly. He’d moved next to the elf, carding his fingers gently through the soft white locks as he spoke.

“I don’t care, just let me lay here.” the elf replied as he closed his eyes and tried to relax.

Anders turned his head cautiously, just a little, glancing to one side. “I don’t think I could eat anything, but you two should eat,” he said quietly. “Maker, I feel so tired and drowsy.” He closed his eyes and sighed.

“No sleeping, you’ve had a head wound. Talk to yourself if you have to, but no sleep.” Vic said as he looked at the blond. 

“Never thought I’d see the day people would be telling me to keep talking instead of telling me to shut up,” muttered Anders, not looking up.

Fenris just curled up closer to the pillow and ignored Anders. 

“At least let me know if Anders suddenly drifts off or goes to sleep. If he does just nod out, keep him up. Can you do that Fenris?” Vic asked in exasperation.

“Yes.” was the terse reply he gave but nothing more was to be had from the elf.

Anders sighed as he heard Invictus leave. He rubbed his forehead, fighting the urge to just lie back and drift off. 

When he didn’t hear the mage speak, Fenris turned his head and asked him to talk so he wouldn’t hear Vic’s nagging later. “You heard Vic, speak so I know you haven’t fallen asleep.”

“What do you want me to talk about?” asked Anders distractedly. 

“I don’t particularly care, just natter as you are wont to do.” Fenris said a shade shy of angry. He wanted to be alone but of course his wants were immaterial to what the mages of the house wanted.

“I don’t know what to say,” Anders said quietly, then chuckled self-deprecatingly. “For once in my life I just...” He sighed. “Very well. Anything? Just remember you asked for this.” He began to quietly talk, rambling between ingredients he needed to restock in the clinic, an odd recipe he’d come across a few weeks ago, and memories from his time in the Circle. 

Fenris huffed but turned around to observe Anders as he spoke of his time in the Circle. “Is that how you came to be scarred?” he finally asked quietly.

“Hmm?” replied Anders; he hadn’t really been paying attention to the words, just saying whatever came to him. “Oh. Yes. I was always getting into trouble. Trying to escape mostly. They’d lay a Smite on me then whip me, and I wouldn’t be able to heal myself. Sometimes they’d pour magebane over my back once they’d finished. So they healed with scars.” He sighed. “The magebane was the worst... stung....” His voice tailed off.

“What about it stinging?” Fenris asked, curious despite his own annoyance at himself and Anders. The mage was silent for a moment, his head low.

“Hmm?” His voice was low and drowsy.

Fenris sat up and reached out to Anders but held back at the last moment. “You spoke of magebane and how it stung, continue...please?” he said as he watched for a sign the mage was going to tip over.

Anders was silent a moment, then hummed. “Yes. Like acid. Hurt. And I couldn’t stop it... the magebane just... drained my magic. It stung, then it burned, and I couldn’t sleep. The cuts were bad enough but magebane... that was the worst.” He sighed. “Ever had vinegar splashed on a cut?”

“Soldier’s Bane actually.” Fenris responded. Despite his earlier rage, he found he didn’t mind the senseless chatter, and he didn’t want Anders to come to real harm, especially at his hand.

“Oh,” said Anders. “Yes... nasty, that. Well... magebane’s like that. They’d splash it on, throw me back in the cell, laugh as I screamed. Couldn’t sleep.” His head drooped. “Maker, I want to sleep,” he mumbled.

“No, you might not wake up. Will a healing potion help? I’m so sorry I hit you.” Fenris said, worry crept into his voice as he saw how Anders struggled to stay awake.

“Maybe. I don’t know,” replied Anders, rubbing his eyes. “Can I at least lie down?”

“No, just … lean against the headboard until Vic comes back.” Fenris said.

Anders shuffled back on the bed until his back was resting against the headboard. He leaned his head back with a sigh. “Why is he taking so long?” he wondered.

“I don’t know...I wish he’d hurry up.” Fenris said. “Talk more, tell me anything, just don’t sleep.” 

Anders opened his eyes and stared at the bed canopy. “What do you want to know?” he asked. “Ask me anything.”

“Why did you tell me to hit you?” Fenris asked cautiously.

“Because I sided with Zevran when you wanted to kill him,” said Anders carelessly, closing his eyes again. “You wanted to hit him really but I wasn’t going to let you, so maybe... I don’t know, maybe I figured I’d make a more suitable target than the wall. Didn’t want you to break your hand again.” He lifted a hand and gestured vaguely. “If you’d hit Zevran this hard he’d have been dead. Couldn’t let you do that.” He was silent a moment. “Might have thought twice if I’d known how hard you could hit,” he admitted. “Maker but you’re... strong....”

Fenris crawled over to Anders when the mages words dropped off. “Come on, wake up please Anders.” When there was no response, he flung open the door and called for Invictus to come up. He stared back at the blond mage; Anders had slumped sideways, head resting against the hard wooden headboard. Swiftly crossing back to the bed, he climbed across and grasped Anders by the shoulders, hauling him upright.

“Anders, wake up!” he snapped, shaking the blond apostate. Anders’ eyes flickered open, the right pupil large and dark. The elf stared at the mage, frowning. He’d seen this before; a slave at his master’s estate had fallen from a roof, striking his head. The slave had been a valuable servant so Danarius had sent for a healer. Fenris remembered the healer saying something about fragments of bone having been driven into the wound, compressing the man’s brain.

Anders had been finding it had to concentrate enough to heal himself properly, Fenris remembered, and Invictus was too inexperienced to understand what had happened. Taking a deep breath, Fenris phased his fingers and gently passed them through Anders’ skull through the site of the wound.

His questing fingers found a fragment of bone pressing upon the unconscious mage’s brain. Biting his lip in concentration, he carefully, slowly phased the piece of bone out until his hand was free, the fragment of bloodied bone resting in the palm of his hand.

“What are you doing to him?” exclaimed Invictus as he watched from the doorway.

“Saving his life, I think,” said Fenris quietly. As the brilliant light of his brands died away, he stared at the piece of bone then held it out toward Invictus. “This was pressing on his brain. There is swelling. Can you reduce it?”

“I...can try,” replied Invictus slowly as he approached the bed. “Will just an ordinary healing spell do?”

“It may suffice, enough to rouse him enough to get a healing potion into him,” replied Fenris. “Help me lay him down.”

Between them, they lay the unconscious mage out upon the bed, then Invictus worked what healing magic he knew on Anders whilst Fenris fetched a couple of healing potions. Anders was slowly coming to as he returned.

“What... happened?” asked Anders slowly as Invictus helped him to sit up.

“Hush,” said Fenris quietly. “Drink this.” He opened a healing potion then held it whilst Anders obediently drank. “And another.”

When both potions were gone, the elf regarded the mage with concern. “How do you feel?” he asked quietly.

Anders rubbed his temple slowly. “Better,” he said slowly. “It doesn’t feel like I’m trying to think through treacle anymore. What did you do?”

In answer, Fenris held out the piece of bone. “It was pressing on your brain,” he said quietly.

“And you pulled it out?” said Anders. “I owe you my life.”

“No,” replied Fenris, shaking his head. “I was nearly your death. I merely set right the wrong I had done.” He dropped his gaze and glanced away. “I am a killer. I nearly killed you.”

“But you didn’t,” replied Anders quietly.

“Are you OK now?” asked Invictus.

“Almost,” replied Anders. He pressed his hand to his forehead and concentrated. It was so much easier to think now. The magic responded easily to his command, and it was a simple matter to finish the work the healing potions and Invictus’ magic had started. 

With the effects of concussion and compression lifted, he was aware of just how in danger he had been; the realisation was sobering. He felt tired, drained, in desperate need of sleep but it was a normal exhaustion, the familiar sensation of his body needing to replenish itself after healing.

“I need to sleep,” he said quietly. He lifted a hand placatingly as both men regarded him with alarm. “No, it’s OK, it’s just normal rest. I’m out of danger now,” he reassured them. “Just very tired after healing. My body needs to rest.”

Fenris dropped the bloodied shard and bolted from the room, heedless of Invictus’ calls to stay. He’d nearly killed Anders out of sheer, unbridled rage. He locked the door to the study and slid to the floor, shaking as he realized what he’d nearly done.

“Go after him,” said Anders urgently. He stared at Invictus. “Make him understand - I’m going to be OK. Don’t let him sink back into self-blame again.”

“It’s going to be hard, he nearly killed you in a blind rage.” Vic looked towards the hallway. “Look, there’s a lot you don’t know about Fenris and this, this is really bad. I’ll explain once I find him and get him calmed down. Just ring for Bodahn if you need help.” 

Anders lay back upon the bed. “I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere for a while,” he admitted. “Go. I’ll sleep. But wake me if you need to.”

“Alright.” Vic grabbed the keys he kept on a ring by the door and went to the usual spot that Fenris retreated to. He didn’t even bother with knocking on the study’s heavy oak door but used the keys to try and open it.

“Fenris get off the damn door and let me in.” Vic said in exasperation.

“Why must you hound me, Hawke?” Fenris’ voice was muffled by the heavy door. “Has what I did to Anders not given you caution enough to leave me be? Go away before I - before I can kill you too.”

“For fucks sake, I am not doing this today.” Vic snapped before he shoved it open and sent Fenris forward. He shut the door and locked it behind him, his eyes dark with worry and anger. “Anders will be fine, he’s going to be fine. You saved him.”

Fenris had caught himself on the edge of a desk as he fell forward, and he turned to stare at Invictus, his green eyes dark with anger. “And have you forgotten so easily that it was I who almost killed him? I am little better than an animal and we both know it, Invictus Hawke. The veneer of civilisation is thin upon me; scratch the surface and you see who I really am.” He bared his teeth in a mirthless grin. “An animal. A monster. A killer. How long before I turn on you as well? Or Orana, or Bodahn, or some other innocent?”

“Fenris, stop this. You are not an animal, you were upset and angry. I shouldn’t have brought him in to try and get through to you.”

“And I had no more self-control than even your pet mabari,” Fenris growled. “Tell me, has Malum ever bitten the hand that fed him? Or Anders?” He shook his head. “You know that he has not. Your own dog is more trustworthy than I.”

Invictus approached him and stopped a couple hand-spans away, unsure if Fenris would lash out in word or deed if he tried to embrace him. “Beloved, I trust with all I have. I would rather no one else at my back, or at my side for all my days. Do not speak so, it rends my heart to see you do this to yourself. You acted in anger, yes, Anders was hurt but you also thought of what saved his life. I’d never have considered it, even knowing what you can do. Stop this Fenris, for Andraste’s sake, please stop beating yourself up like this!” 

Fenris held up a trembling hand. “Don’t touch me,” he said, his voice unsteady. “I am unworthy of both your trust and affection.”

“Fenris, let me hold you. Let me show you how wrong you are.” Vic said as he closed in on the elf. “Please.”

Fenris tried to back away but his back was against the edge of the desk. He shook his head. “Invictus,” he breathed, his hands braced against the edge of the desk, trapped.  
“Fenris, just let me hold you and listen to what I have to say.” Vic said softly as he softly wrapped his arms around the elf and leaned his forehead against his before he spoke. “I love you, I love you and I cherish you. I trust you, no matter how angry you get, how much you slide back to behaviors you loathe. You are not perfect, I’m not, Anders isn’t. So please, stop calling yourself an animal. You are not dangerous or cruel, or evil. Just stop it, please. I do not fear you.”

Fenris cried out as he felt Invictus’ arms surrounding him. He let his head drop back and closed his eyes. “Damn you, Invictus Endrin Hawke,” he breathed. “I cannot even trust myself.” The mage could feel the elf trembling in his arms.

“Then let me trust enough for both of us. You’re not what he made you, you’re not. Do you understand?”

Fenris slumped in Invictus’ arms in mute surrender as he let his head fall forwards to rest against the mage’s chest. “No,” he finally admitted quietly. “I do not trust my own thoughts or reactions. I fear that though he may be long dead, a part of me will always be his creature.”

Vic let his hand drift up to massage the back of Fenris’ head gently. “You’re not his anymore. You’re your own man Fenris, and no matter what it takes, I’ll help you see that. Come on, let’s get some food on you then we can talk if you want. Or if it would help, we can see if Anders can make that potion for you again.”

“I... I want to see Anders again,” said Fenris quietly. “He ... will truly be fine? He will recover?”

“Yes, he healed himself in front of us. He might be sleeping but we can see him.” Vic said softly. “I wish I could kill Danarius again for what he’s done to you love.”

“I killed him too fast,” said Fenris bitterly.

“There was no time to savor it.” Vic said as he held Fenris close to his chest and sighed. “I’m so sorry love, I wish I could undo all your pains and hurt.”

“You cannot fix everything, Invictus,” Fenris said quietly. He lifted a hand slowly to rest it against the mage’s chest. “Let me see Anders, and then I will eat.”

“I know, doesn’t mean I like it.” Vic said before he pulled Fenris’ hands up to kiss his fingers gently. “Come on.”

Fenris allowed Invictus to lead him from the study. As they entered the bedroom, he pulled away from the Champion to make his way over to the bed. He stood by the side of the bed, staring down at the sleeping apostate. Anders was laying on his side, one hand loosely curled upon the pillow beside his head. 

The elf stared down at him for a moment then gently reached down to brush loose strands of hair out of the sleeping mage’s face.

“We could have lost him,” he said quietly. “And I would never have forgiven myself for that.”

“We didn’t and you thought of what saved him. Please stop it.” Vic said quietly so he wouldn’t wake their sleeping lover.

Fenris closed his eyes briefly. “I will try,” he said softly. He turned to Invictus. “Let him sleep.”

“Alright, come let’s eat something. I won’t take no for an answer either.” Vic said as he pressed a gentle kiss to the elf’s temple. “We both love you, and want you to be happy.”

“I will try to be worthy of your love, beloved,” replied Fenris. “Both of you.”

With a last glance back at the sleeping apostate, Fenris followed Invictus from the room, leaving Anders to sleep on in peace.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris has a mean right hook, Anders overdoes it and everyone is on the wrong foot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Abusive language, violence between lovers, past abuse, triggered by past abuse

It was evening when next Zevran awoke, though of what day he had no way of knowing. For a moment he was confused; the ceiling was strange, too high, too white, the bed too soft and clean-smelling.

Then he made an incautious movement and the pain flaring across his ribs reminded him where he was: Hawke’s home, likely one of the guest rooms.

Pressing his hand hard against the bandages that held a dressing in place over the stab wound in his side, the elf sat up and threw aside the down comforter. Glancing down he saw he was naked save for his leather pants, thick white bandages swathing his torso tightly.

Setting his feet to the floor, Zevran gritted his teeth against the expected flare of pain and rose to his feet, crossing to the door in a few faltering steps, his breath coming hard. He was weaker than he thought. He laid his hand on the doorknob then snatched it back with a low cry as a shock of electricity ran up his arm from the contact.

“Warded? So, you have learned caution at last, friend Hawke,” he murmured to himself with a smile. “You would keep this Crow caged, eh?”

Limping slightly, his side stiff and sore, he made a circuit of the room, discovering in the process that he had been left his tunic and boots, but everything else was missing. The elf shrugged. It was no less than he expected; Hawke would have to have been a foolish man indeed to leave a Crow armed under his own roof. Of course, Zevran was no less lethal for the lack of weapons.

Or would have been, he conceded, if not for the misfortune of a poisoned knife in a darkened alley the evening before. He sat down on the edge of the bed, that brief tour of the room leaving him breathless and sweating.

**

Fenris opened his eyes to see Anders had awoken from their nap and was watching him solemnly. Invictus had gone out to attend to some business and to give them a chance to talk without him hovering nearby.

Anders stared at the elf quietly. “So....” he said quietly, unsure how to begin. “I’m... alive. Thanks to you. Thank you. I don’t remember if I said that before? But I am. Thankful, I mean. Both for being alive, and that you... well, did the, um, keeping me alive bit?” He grimaced. “I’m babbling. I should shut up. Erm.”

“It is my fault you were nearly killed, do not thank me for righting my wrong.” Fenris said quietly.

Anders pulled a small _moue_ of distress. “We’re not going to do the whole blame thing again are we?” he asked in a small voice. “Couldn’t we just skip that whole bit and get to the bit where I’m thanking you properly and we’re both... um. Happy again? Or is it not that simple?” He groaned. “No. No, of course it isn’t, because I was an idiot first and-”

He fell silent as the elf placed a hand firmly over his mouth.

“Just let it go, I will continue to feel guilty long after today so stop Anders.” Fenris said as he withdrew his hand and sat up. “You should check on your friend, I will remain in here so I do not assault him on sight.” Fenris sat up and clutched a pillow to his chest in an effort to remain still and not fidget under Anders’ gaze.

“Maybe it would help if you explained your side to me,” said Anders quietly. “Why would you rather he had died?”

“Vic told you what happened, must you hear how my heart was torn in half once more?” Fenris said sullenly.

Anders pulled himself up a little in the bed and tentatively reached for the pillow.

“What are you doing?” Fenris asked even as he let the pillow go.

“That pillow looked so comfy in your arms I thought I’d like to take its place,” said Anders, looking up at Fenris with large dark eyes. “Isn’t it silly how jealous I’m feeling of a pillow?”

“Incredibly silly, but I could actually use a hug. If you…” Fenris gestured half-heartedly between them. He felt stupid even asking but he wanted to hold Anders, to be sure he wasn’t still hurt.

Anders didn’t need to be told twice. He crawled into Fenris’ arms, resting his head on the elf’s shoulder as he nuzzled his face against Fenris’ neck.

“I am relieved you are feeling better,” Fenris said before he pressed a quick kiss to the mage’s head.

“So am I,” said Anders. “I think I was too out of it to really be afraid, but it’s good to be able to think clearly again.” He gently pressed a kiss against the side of Fenris’ jaw. “I don’t want to upset you, love,” he said softly. “I’m just trying to understand your part of the story. Invictus has told me his, even Zevran has told me some of it from his part, but you seem to be the one hurt most and I haven’t heard from _you_.” 

“Would you think me a coward if I said I do not wish to speak on it? It hurt me, I felt the fool for allowing him into my heart even briefly and I cannot bear to see him here,” Fenris said as he wrapped his arms around Anders to keep him close.

Anders stared up at him. “You... love him,” he said softly in realisation. “And.. you think he doesn’t love you.” 

“I do not love him,” Fenris growled angrily. 

“Liar,” breathed Anders softly.

“Do not…” Fenris said with a hitch to his voice he’d deny to his last day. Anders stilled and closed his eyes, barely daring to breathe.

“Regardless what you think, I most certainly do not _love_ that assassin. It matters not how he feels about me. I want him dead, and I cannot have that, then out of our house,” Fenris said even as he rubbed at his eyes.

Anders opened one eye warily then turned and pressed his face against Fenris’ neck, exhaling shakily. “He doesn’t intend Hawke to die,” he said quietly. “It’s his own death he seeks.”

“Save your breath, I do not believe that for a second.” Fenris huffed. “You should check on him, as I said I’ll stay away.”

Anders didn’t move. “He said he gave you a boon.”

“He said favor, either way I don’t want it. I want nothing to do with him,” Fenris said tiredly. “You won’t be happy until you’ve gotten my story are you? I don’t know who’s worse, you or Vic? Both like Malum when he’s after scraps.”

“I’m trying to understand, love,” said Anders quietly. “Zevran is my friend and seems to be determined to get himself killed one way or another. You are my lover and seem quite willing to indulge his desire. I have a vested interest in not seeing this happen, because either way I end up trying to stop someone from bleeding to death, and upsetting several people in the process.” He lifted his head slowly. “The only person I ever saw Zevran truly give himself to was the Warden. The Warden is dead. He says his only aim now is to see Isabela free, and he doesn’t care what happens to him after that.”

“I don’t know what led him to that path, nor do I care. He used me, I have no inclination to keep those in my company that would so mistreat me or break my heart. Let him find his end however he wishes, it is not your concern,” Fenris said angrily.

“You don’t understand,” said Anders, pulling away slightly. “I can’t just stand by and watch him die.”

“Because you are a healer. I however, am not and give not one damn if he continues to draw breath or not. Do as you will regarding him, but leave me out of it. I don’t even want to see his face while he impinges on our unwilling hospitality.” Fenris folded his hands on his stomach and stared at Anders with mild annoyance but not the rage that fueled him earlier.

“It’s not just that,” said Anders quietly. “I... owe him my life.”

“Of course, why didn’t I see that coming,” Fenris replied acerbically.

“It’s true,” Anders breathed. “I swear upon my life.”

“I don’t doubt it’s true, I’m just irritated about it,” Fenris said as he watched Anders. “Go to him, I do not wish to speak further on your friend. Know he is not one of mine.”

Anders stared at him, his face slowly falling into a look of despair. He turned away, crawling across to the other side of the bed where he reached for Invictus’ houserobe. Pulling it about his slender shoulders, he gave Fenris one last crestfallen look before he quietly left the room.

The elf sighed and laid back with a groan. “I swear he’s more of a menace than Malum is with that hang-dog look,” Fenris muttered to himself.

Anders made his way quietly down the hall. Laying his hand against the guest room door, he let a brief burst of magic lift the ward enough to pass and then pushed open the door.

He cried out briefly as an arm looped around his throat as he stepped through the door, the cry choked off as the arm tightened. He struggled briefly as he felt slender but strong fingers jab against a point upon his throat just under his jaw and then everything went dark.

Invictus had been on his way up the stairs when he heard Anders’ brief cry of alarm and bolted to down to find Zevran bent over his lover. He cast a paralysis glyph at the elf with a snarl. “He tries to save your useless hide and you repay him like that?”

Zevran struggled uselessly against the paralysis. “Wait, it was a mistake!” he gasped. 

Anders groaned faintly, his eyelids fluttering as he slowly came round.

“Right, it’s bad enough you’ve got me by the short hairs but you assault the one person in this house that doesn’t want you dead.” Vic quickly pulled Anders away and to his feet. “Lovely friend you’ve got here, anyone else you want to introduce us to?” he asked.

Anders stumbled slightly, leaning against Invictus as he put a hand to his throat. “What did you do to me?” he said, bewildered. “That was no spell....”

“Nerve point,” said Zevran quietly. “If you know where, you can put someone out with a touch. Harmless but effective. I did not realise it was you until it was too late; I had no idea who might come through that door.” He grimaced slightly. “I am in some... discomfort. Might I persuade you to perhaps let me go?” he asked hopefully. “No?”

“My answer is no.” Vic said as he helped Anders stay upright. “Not until this door is shut and warded again, then I’ll dispel my work.”

“I need to check his dressing,” said Anders, shaking his head to dispel a little lingering dizziness.

“I’ll have a spell at the ready, be quick about it.” Vic replied as he held his hand aloft and let arcane fire dance over his fingers.

As the paralysis eased, Zevran raised his hands silently in surrender. Anders knelt down next to the elf and began unwinding the bandages. Blood had begun to seep through the dressing, and Anders tutted.

“You should have stayed in bed,” he muttered. “What on earth possessed you to try and jump Hawke or Fenris?”

Zevran shrugged stoically. “A foolish move with hindsight,” he agreed quietly. “But Fenris seemed particularly keen upon my demise when last I laid eyes upon him, shortly before I fainted, and I am none too keen to die just yet.”

“Could have fooled me,” muttered Anders as he carefully pulled away the dressing then frowned, noting how the barely-healed scar had pulled open. “Up on the bed. I need to do something about this.” He glanced up at Invictus as though awaiting permission.

“Do what you need Anders, though if you tell Fenris about this little stunt, he might forget his promise and attempt to end our guest anyway.” Vic said as he looked down at Zevran with undisguised malice.

Zevran rose to his feet with help from Anders, making his way slowly to the bed where he stretched out with a faint groan. Anders bent over the wound, his hands glowing blue as he worked on the wound. The elf turned his head to stare silently at Hawke as the mage worked on his wound.

“Avert your gaze, you’ve caused enough havoc in my home. I don’t want to see you staring at me as well.” Vic snapped at the elf.

Zevran closed his eyes and turned his face away.

Anders sat back then reached for a fresh dressing. “You should stay in bed for another day,” he said quietly. “Too much exertion will just tear it open again; whatever that poison was, its effects seem to be lingering in your system and hindering your healing.” He unwound a length of fresh bandage. “Sit up a moment?” he asked.

Zevran did as he was told, lifting his arms up out of the way as Anders bound the fresh dressing in place, winding the bandage around the elf’s torso.

“Is the Hawke an honourable bird?” asked the Antivan elf quietly, though his voice carried clearly to Invictus.

“You know he is,” replied Anders as he tied off the end of the bandage.

“Of course. You would not be with a dishonourable man, my friend,” said Zevran quietly as he lay back. “And honourable men always keep their word, do they not?”

Anders glanced at Invictus.

“Speak to me, not about me. Unless the Crow’s beak flaps just to ask useless questions.” Invictus said acidically.

A ghost of a smile played across Zevran’s lips. “Then I ask the Hawke: will you keep your word?”

“Yes, though I should not considering how you have turned my household upside down not one day after we’ve all had the fight of our lives. How you’ve upset and hurt my lover, but I will keep my word. Now if Anders is finished with you, I would like to leave you to your suffering.” Vic glared at him as fire danced over his hands and crackled in the air between them.

“And you would so love to see me suffer, would you not?” said Zevran, unable to resist needling him just a little further.

Anders glanced up at Invictus and then leapt up from the bed, flinging his arms wide as he stood between the bed and Invictus. “Hawke, no, don’t!” he cried.

“Mind your friend before he winds up getting his death wish, honor be damned.” Vic replied coldly as his magic changed to match his mood. Ice raced in a spiral around his arms then fell off in shards as he shook his hands to clear them.

Anders let his hands drop as he stared uncertainly at Invictus, then glanced back at the elf. “Stop it,” he said in a low voice. “There’s only so many times I can patch you up, and your fool mouth is going to get both of us into trouble.”

“My apologies,” replied Zevran contritely. “I have been no end of trouble to you, have I not?”

Anders closed his eyes briefly. “Just stop baiting Hawke. Please.”

Zevran glanced at Invictus. “Do not take your temper out upon your lover,” he said quietly. “He does not deserve it. I know you question his friendship with me and why he would go to such lengths to protect me, but please, even if you do not trust me, trust him.”

“Not one more fucking word to me until we must speak of my owed favor. Nothing else from you. Do not tell me how to trust my lovers, do not bait me or I will forget what little honor I’ve gained since meeting you. Anders, I trust you can handle your friend while I attend to Fenris?” Vic said with such hate dripping from his voice it was a wonder poison didn’t spill from him.

“Anders owes me his life,” said Zevran quietly.

Anders wrapped his arms around himself and his head drooped.

“What part of not one more fucking word was unclear to you?” Invictus said as fire lit in his palms once more.

Anders’ head snapped up as he felt the draw of magic and he gave Invictus a desperate look. “Enough,” he pleaded.

“Take care of him, I want to forget he’s here until I have to see him.” Vic said before he left with a slam that nearly rattled the door on it’s hinge.

“Anders...” began Zevran quietly.

“Shut up. Shut up!” exclaimed Anders, rounding on him angrily. “Every time you open your mouth in front of him you make it worse, don’t you see? You have no idea what your appearance here has done, have you?”

Zevran made to sit up but Anders stepped away, shaking his head angrily. “No, stay there and just- just shut up. Don’t say anything. I’ll bring you food in a while and if I find you’ve moved from that bed then so help me Maker I’ll-”

He broke off and fled towards the door, slamming it closed behind him, recasting the ward hastily before he pressed his back against the door. He shoved his fist hard against his mouth to muffle a scream of frustration.

**

Invictus had returned to their room and found Fenris reading in bed, thankfully calmer than he’d been earlier. “Love?”

Fenris glanced up over the top of his book then glanced down, making a mental note of the page before closing it and setting it down, raising an eyebrow at Invictus.

Vic slipped into bed next to the elf and simply held him close, his breathing was hard as he tried to calm himself. “I hate him so much, I was stupid to allow him into our lives. Please forgive me beloved.” the Champion said softly.

Fenris slipped an arm around Invictus. “I heard raised voices,” he rumbled softly. “What happened?”

“Fucking assassin attacked Anders thinking it was me.” Vic replied.

Fenris’ face twisted into a look of anger. Eyes glittering dangerously he threw the coverlet aside and made to rise.

“Don’t, just...let Anders deal with him. I’m tired, I missed you and I just need to be held love.” Invictus tightened his grasp around the elf’s waist and held him close. The elf glowered for a moment then relented.

“If he hurt Anders....” he growled.

“Anders is fine, he’s just annoyed as fuck if the irritated noises I heard are any indication of how he’s feeling.” Vic said before he leaned in to kiss Fenris. “I love you.”

Fenris allowed himself to be drawn back down, one hand threading into Invictus’ hair as he returned the kiss a little distractedly.

Anders spared them a brief glance as he dropped into the armchair near the fire before glancing away at the low flames.

“Join us Anders.” Fenris rumbled from where he was tangled around Invictus. “I wish to be sure you are well.”

Anders glanced over at them, then pulled himself back to his feet and made his way to the bed, sitting on the edge near Fenris. He stared at the ground.

“I said join us, not linger on the edge of the bed like you’re unwanted.” Fenris said as he beckoned to the mage.

Anders shifted closer, stretching himself out alongside Fenris, his arms wrapped around himself as he turned his face down into the pillow, quiet and withdrawn.

Invictus sighed and tugged at Anders in a bid to get him to actually join them. “Stop sulking and get in the middle, I’ve even made room.”

The mage made a faint noise of protest but allowed the two men to manhandle him in between them. He lay on his back and closed his eyes. “I’m not sulking,” he said quietly.

“You are.” Fenris said gently as he tipped Anders head to the side. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m not,” Anders protested weakly. “I’m fine, I’m just...” He sighed quietly. “I don’t know what to do or say. It’s... easier to say nothing, sometimes.”

“Can we help? Or is it because we’re at odds with what you wish?” Fenris asked as he brushed away the hair that always escaped the blond mage’s ponytail.

“I apologize for worrying you earlier.” Vic said as he curled around Anders and worried at the back of his neck.

“I owe Zevran my life. You’d both cheerfully see him dead. It’s... not exactly my favourite situation to be in,” Anders said quietly, opening his eyes to glance at Fenris before he turned a little on his side, bowing his head down to bare a little more of the back of his neck to Invictus.

“He broke my heart Anders, I cannot undo how I feel because you owe him a debt. However, I will stay away from him in order to stay my hand and not make it worse for you. Unless he harms you again then I will hurt him with a smile.” Fenris looked to both men then shrugged. “I have come to care for you and will protect you Anders.”

“He didn’t hurt me,” said Anders. “He... did something with his fingers... it made me black out for a moment, but it didn’t hurt me,” he said, his fingers brushing the spot under his jaw. “I’m still not sure how he was able to do that.”

“Pressure points, not sure how it works exactly but you can incapacitate someone easily if you don’t mean to kill them.” Fenris said lightly.

Invictus arched an eyebrow as he sat up to look at his lover. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.” he murmured before he went back to nibbling at Anders.

“You know how to do it?” asked Anders as he lifted his head a little to glance at Fenris.

“Bodyguard, remember, I have many skills and have been trained to murder with little to no trace back to my old master.” Fenris looked at him with those same cold, killer’s eyes before he smiled and let his hand trail over Anders chest towards his hip.

“Maybe you’ll show me how to do that trick some time,” said Anders. “Could be useful being able to put a patient out without drugging them or having to use magic.” He made a faint noise in the back of his throat as he rolled a little toward the elf, brushing open the front of his borrowed houserobe.

“No, I’d rather not think of the last time I had to use such skills. It can be used to kill if applied incorrectly or with precision.” Fenris said before he leaned in to kiss Anders. “I would rather apply my skilled hands to more pleasurable pursuits.”

“I don’t want to kill my patients by accident,” agreed Anders quietly when Fenris pulled back for breath. His fingers brushed lightly over the spot under his jaw then dropped to the bed as he closed his eyes and leaned in for another kiss.

“Perhaps later we can repeat yesterday, provided we don’t break you again.” Fenris murmured.

“Not wise considering how deeply we slept the other night. I am uneasy as it is, loves.” Vic said after a particularly hard nip to Anders’ earlobe.

Anders gasped then shivered. “Who... was broken...?” he managed quietly. “Don’t remember... breaking....”

“You couldn’t put two words together after we used you. That was breaking you.” Fenris said between kisses. “Just wanting to show you affection for now, is that alright?” the elf said huskily.

“Maybe I broke a little,” Anders conceded with a small smile. “Do as you wish to me, you’ll not hear me complaining.”

“I’m with Fenris, I could just do with some togetherness for now. It would be nice if you participate as well.” Vic said softly.

“I _did_ participate as well,” objected Anders. “I moaned very enthusiastically!” He turned his head to glance over his shoulder at the other mage with a teasing smile.

“I meant right now.” Vic muttered as he went back to bothering Anders neck.

Anders rolled over onto his back again; as Invictus made a faint sound of annoyance the blond mage stroked a hand down the side of the dark mage’s face as he tilted his face up to kiss him, his hand trailing down until his fingers curled around Invictus’ hand, guiding it up until Invictus’ fingers rested loosely around the blond mage’s throat. Then Anders reached his hand back towards Fenris.

The elf lifted himself up upon one arm, running his hand slowly up Anders’ torso until his fingers found a nipple; tweaking it, the elf pebbled the nipple between his fingers as Anders broke off the kiss to moan, his body arching up into the touch.

“Maker, the things you two do to me,” he groaned.

“Seems to me we’re the ones doing it all,” observed Invictus. Anders claimed his mouth hungrily with another kiss.

“Why did you put his hand on your throat?” Fenris purred in Anders ear as he let his fingers trail further down towards the mage’s trousers. “What do you want him to do to you?”

“I... like the sensation,” confessed Anders quietly. His eyes opened as he glanced up towards Invictus. “Would you...” He blushed a little. “Press harder?” he whispered. “I like the feeling of breathlessness, it -” He broke off as Invictus’ fingers tightened a little; enough to make breathing a little harder, not so hard as to choke or leave bruises. “Ohhh. Yes,” Anders gasped, tilting his head back and then moaning as the elf’s hand dipped below the waistband of his trousers.

“You like people trying to choke you?” asked Invictus, careful not to press too hard, marvelling at the contrast between his dark hand and the pale skin of Anders’ throat. He could almost fit his whole hand around the mage’s slender neck if he tried, he realised. If he squeezed a little harder....

“Lack of... air... makes everything more... intense,” Anders panted. 

“He could probably make you come just like that.” Fenris whispered as he undid the fastenings on Anders pants and freed his cock. “You’re hard as stone, what other things do this to you, hmm?” Fenris said softly as he stroked the cock in his hand slowly, deliberately while he watched how the blond reacted to being slowly choked.

“Maybe I’ll take a turn when he’s done. See your eyes change, roll shut as you get close.”

Anders writhed under Fenris’ hand. Between Invictus’ hand tightening around his throat and his own quickening breath as Fenris stroked him to further arousal, he felt light-headed and dizzy, the sensations of being touched, stroked, all heightened. He tried to speak but could only gasp for breath that wouldn’t quite come. He moaned breathlessly, feeling heat building in his groin.

Fenris smiled as he stroked faster, determined to get Anders off. “Squeeze a little more, he’s so close Vic.”

Invictus applied slightly more pressure but kept careful watch over their lover so he didn’t go too far. “Come for us.” he whispered.

He couldn’t breathe. Black stars were encroaching on his vision as his body shuddered, chest straining vainly to draw in air as the touch, Fenris’ hand on his cock, it all became too much. His back arched slightly off the bed as he came hard, head thrown back, mouth open in a silent cry as his eyes rolled back in his head before he slumped, limp and ennervated, half-conscious between the two men.

Vic drew his hand away and stared at Anders with worry. “Anders...come on, don’t fucking do this to us.” 

Fenris wiped his hand on the bedding before he lightly tapped the mage’s face. “Anders, open your eyes.”

Anders opened his eyes slowly, his chest heaving as he panted raggedly. “‘m OK,” he managed to gasp. “That was... jus’... gimme a minute... catch my breath,” he slurred.

“No more of that until you’ve had a few days without injuries and nearly being killed.” Fenris said in a relieved rush. 

“I’ll get water for you.” Vic said before he slipped off the bed to get glasses, fill them with ice and melt them just a bit. “Here, drink it slowly.”

Anders tried to sit up, his movements somewhat unco-ordinated. “Think... need a hand,” he murmured. “That was amazing.”

“Amazing or not, we’re not trying to actually kill you with sex.” Fenris said as he held the glass up to Anders lips. “Or any other way…” he muttered.

Vic tapped Fenris on the back of the head with a shake of his head and a mouthed warning to stop it.

“But what a way to go,” smiled Anders, his eyes closed so he didn’t see the interaction between Invictus and Fenris. “But I take your point.” He sipped slowly at the water then laid back. “I seem to have spent an awful lot of time either unconscious or half-conscious recently, which probably isn’t healthy.”

“No...no it’s not.” Fenris said as he slipped away from them to wash his hands.

Vic glowered at him as he approached the bed, glad that Anders couldn’t see their exchange. The elven fighter held his hands up in surrender before he joined them again.

Anders opened his eyes and sighed. “Thank you, loves,” he said softly. “It’s been a long time since I could trust anyone with my life that much. It’s... not something I’ve ever shared much, for obvious reasons.”

“Thank you for trusting us, both of us.” Vic stressed as he flopped down next to Anders. He stretched out and laid an arm over his side as if to claim him again.

“Yes...thank you.” Fenris said quietly as he reached over and joined hands with Vic to complete their hold on the blond between them.

Anders smiled contentedly, turning his face a little into the pillow towards Fenris as he let one hand rest lightly over their joined hands. Presently his breathing evened out and deepened, his hand becoming limp as the apostate slipped into a peaceful sleep.

Fenris didn’t fall asleep, but he watched as Vic’s eyes closed and he dropped off as well. He didn’t want to move and unsettle the comfortable way they’d lain but he was restless and the guilt over his actions was there, it lingered like a bad taste in his mouth as he watched Anders sleep so peacefully next to a man that had nearly ended him that day.

Sleep never came for Fenris, even when the sky darkened and his lovers slept on. He was letting his mind wander when he realized that Anders hadn’t gone to check on their unwanted guest for hours and no one had given him food. 

“Wake up Anders. Your...friend...you never took him food earlier.” Fenris said reluctantly. He nudged Anders, who was deep asleep. When the blond didn’t stir, the elf got up and went to the kitchen to assemble a plate of boar meats, cheese, bread and butter. He’d been stabbed before so he knew how hungry one might be for hearty fare. 

“I just hope his ward has gone off or this will be a very short trip.” Fenris muttered to himself as he approached the door. When nothing happened upon approach, he knocked and when there was no answer, he flung the door open and jumped back in case Zevran thought to attempt escape again. 

What he found instead was that Zevran had fallen over in attempt at the water pitcher. He was sprawled gracelessly on the floor in a heap, his hair dark from sweat and his eyes were mere slits of gold. 

Fenris slid the tray into the room, shut the door and pondered what to do with the assassin. He didn’t want to touch him, to give him an opening in case he was faking; but moving him wasn’t possible.

“Crow...open your eyes and speak.” he said instead from his place by the door.

Zevran lay motionless for long moments, before slowly opening his eyes. They were dull and glassy, and it took him an effort of will to focus upon the elven warrior. He tried to speak, but his mouth and throat were too parched. His gaze shifted to the tray of food, tantalisingly close, yet beyond his physical ability to reach in his current weakened, dehydrated state; it might as well have been miles away, and he closed his eyes again.

Fenris slid the tray over within reach of the other elf and waited to see if he made it over to the tray.

Zevran opened his eyes again at the sound of movement, and his hand twitched. His gaze shifted to the elf, and then over to the pitcher of water on the far side of the room. He tried to speak again, and finally managed to rasp, “Water....”

Fenris rolled his eyes in disgust and skirted the other elf to pour him a glass of water. “If you touch me, I’ll divest you of your heart. I’m only doing this for Anders sake.” the fighter said as he came over to Zevran’s side as if he was approaching a poisonous snake.

The blond elf stared at him gratefully and tried to reach a hand for the glass, but even that effort was beyond him. He made a faint sound of desperate frustration, staring longingly at the water, the tried to lift his hand again.

Fenris sighed and carefully held Zevran’s head so he could drink. “If anything hidden in your braids pricks me, I will be cross assassin.”

The elf gulped thirstily at the water, uncaring that some spilled down his chin. He didn’t so much as pause for breath until the glass was empty. “More... please...” he begged weakly.

The white haired elf hated himself for even caring a whit for the others welfare but he didn’t want to break his word to his lover. He brought the pitcher over and held the glass up again for Zevran to get his fill. He wanted to go, to pretend he’d not even shown this much concern for him but he remained while the Antivan drank greedily.

Zevran downed a further three glasses before his thirst was slaked and he managed to gesture with one hand to indicate he was done. “My thanks,” he breathed quietly, trying to catch his breath.

Fenris stepped away and nudged at the tray. “Can you feed yourself at least? I am no nursemaid.” he said harshly. In answer, the other elf managed with difficulty to roll over onto his side, reaching with a trembling hand for a piece of meat, tearing into it with little grace as he closed his eyes, swallowing the mouthful barely half-chewed before he was reaching weakly for another morsel.

Fenris leaned against the door as he watched Zevran struggle to feed himself. When the elf seemed to be done, he spoke. “You will not have Hawke’s life, nor mine Crow. I will die for both of them before I let you harm either man in my life.” 

Zevran looked up from where he had slumped on the floor. “Hawke’s death was never a part of my plan,” he said hoarsely. “Nor yours. Not that I expect you to believe that. As for Anders, I would sooner slit my own throat than cause him harm. I did not save his life only to take it myself.”

“You’re right, I don’t believe you. Why did you come here? Why after all this time?” Fenris shouted before he caught himself. He folded his arms and stayed plastered to the door as if it would protect him.

“I have been trying to track down where the Qunari had taken Isabela. I now know where she is. I cannot free her alone, and Hawke promised.... he promised he would aid me. I would have sent word, but I have enemies of my own, and they ambushed me.” He closed his eyes, exhausted. “I was desperate. I had nowhere else to turn.”

“You are desperate or stupider than I thought to turn up here.” Fenris snarled.

Zevran opened his eyes and glanced up at the white-haired elf. “It was a choice between certain, agonising death in a gutter or possible death somewhere clean, warm and dry and a chance I might live. Tell me, what would you have done?”

“Faced my death and not done what you have. Were it solely up to me, you would have bled out on the floor for all I care.” Fenris tried to look and sound impassive, but he didn’t think he’d made a good show of not caring as he’d hoped.

“Then perhaps I am the coward you accuse me of being,” said Zevran quietly. “Would you begrudge a man some small hope of life? Even me?”

“I don’t know what I feel about you, I don’t like you any more, you hurt ...you.” Fenris clamped his mouth shut before any further traitorous thoughts could spill from him.

“You held my life in your hands,” said Zevran softly. “You could have killed me with as little effort as it takes to breathe; and yet instead you brought me water. I think perhaps you do not hate me as much as you say you do. I shall be grateful for small mercies, however they fall.”

“I did not wish to further upset Anders by harming _his_ friend. Do not presume my feelings for you assassin.” Fenris said as he stared out the window rather than at the elf nearly at his feet.

“Then why did you bring me food?” whispered Zevran. He stared up at the elf, and then rolled over onto his back with a faint sigh.

“A lapse in judgement, and I could not rouse Anders from sleep. Do not try to make me out to be something I am not Crow.” Fenris said in a harsh whisper. Damn him, could everyone see through him as if he were Orlesian cut glass?

“And yet you stay.” Zevran closed his eyes, exhausted, yet slightly comforted by the elf’s continued presence, prickly as it was. His heart was still in his chest, which he chose to view as an encouraging sign.

“If the ward is expired, I cannot trust you to stay put, that is is all.” Fenris huffed.

“You overestimate my capabilities at this present moment,” Zevran chuckled weakly. “I doubt I could even make it to the bed, let alone escape. How far do you think I could make it in this condition?” He opened his eyes and glanced up at the elf. “Shall we see?” 

He rolled back over onto his side and managed with difficulty to push himself up onto one arm. It was obvious even to Fenris that it was taking much out of the Antivan elf to even manage that much as his chest heaved, sweat beading his brow as he struggled to lever himself up onto his hands and knees. He paused, head bowed, as he fought to catch his breath, then tried to push himself up onto his feet, only to sprawl upon the floor as his legs gave way beneath him. 

He tried again, bracing his hands beneath himself as he tried to push up off the floor, but his arms trembled before he sank back to the ground with a faint, frustrated sound, his head coming to rest by Fenris’ foot.

The elven fighter shifted away from him and grunted in disgust. “I do not trust that this is not a ruse to get me to drop my guard. You got me to be foolish once, it will not happen again.”

Zevran lay panting upon the ground. “I tell you the truth; even a kitten could best me as I am right now,” he groaned. “You think I like being this weak and vulnerable? Sooner or later my enemies will realise I have failed to die like a good dog and come searching for me, and I will not survive a second attempt like this.” The note of frustration in his voice was genuine.

Fenris’ lips quirked up in a genuine smile, the first since Zevran had entered their home. “I’ll be sure and hold the door open for them to finish the job. It will save me the trouble and keep Anders in my good graces. A good solution to a troublesome bird problem.” he grinned wolfishly as he considered the elf at his feet.

Zevran’s eyes opened wide, and he turned his head to stare at Fenris. “No...” he breathed. “Please. I beg you. Do not do that.” His face grew, if anything, even paler.

“The great Crow, laid low at my feet begging for mercy. I should savor this moment for all my days. Give me one reason I should not hand you over with a smile?” Fenris’ voice had dropped to a low purr, one he usually reserved for his lovers when he was in a very good mood.

“You are a cruel man,” breathed Zevran. “It would be kinder for you to kill me here and now than let them lay hands on me again. But now I see I was a fool to ever believe mercy or compassion ever tainted your heart. You are far more worthy of the title of Crow than ever I was.” He tried to push himself away from the other elf, but he was too exhausted, his body too weak still. 

Fenris leaned down until he was nearly close enough to kiss the other elf and grinned a reaper’s smile at him. “Now, perhaps you understand how I felt after you used me. Think on what fear and anger grips your heart and perhaps you’ll see what I am in the throes of now Zevran Arainai.” he stared into the golden eyes with a hint of how he’d felt upon seeing him again. 

“I never used you,” breathed Zevran. He stared back into Fenris’ eyes, and then slowly turned his face towards the ground. “Kill me, then,” he whispered, his tone one of dull resignation. 

He would never have believed Fenris so capable of such cruelty. To have given him water, brought him food, given him the illusory hope that perhaps the elf still felt a scrap of compassion for him... only to have that hope dashed as the elf tormented him now. He closed his eyes. 

“Forgive me, Isabela,” he breathed faintly. “I have failed you.” He pressed his forehead to the carpet and felt tears sting his eyes.

“Do you think me fool enough to believe you didn’t use me to get to Vic? You honestly think I believe you would cry? I will not kill you for one reason and that’s Anders.” Fenris said softly as he leaned over the other elf and spoke in his ear. “You don’t see what you did to me do you? You have broken my heart and when I try to illustrate this to you, you make it about you.”

Zevran turned his tear-streaked face towards Fenris. “You don’t understand,” he said miserably. “I never meant to hurt you. Don’t you see? I never used you. It was but chance I encountered you all upon the road. Yes, I asked Hawke for his help - but you... I loved you, Fenris. You do not understand what that meant for me.” He turned his face away, too weak even to brush away the tears. 

“There is only one other person I ever truly loved, and that was my Warden. But my Warden is dead, and I never thought I would ever encounter another who would make me wish to live again like that.” He shook his head, his body trembling. “Save one.” He drew a shuddering breath. “I was angry with Hawke, yes; he would have traded you as one does a favour. So I thought to teach him a lesson, yes?” 

He turned and fixed Fenris with a fierce glare. “I gave a favour to you. Yes, Hawke would help me to rescue Isabela - but I would not let him die for that. Do you not see? I gave the means of saving his life to _you_. I gave my life into your hands; I would be Hawke’s Champion against Isabela should she demand his life.” His eyes stared into Fenris’. “I would willingly have died for his and your sakes. I still will. Only please - let me live long enough to see Isabela free.”

Fenris stared into the other elf’s eyes for a long time, unsure of how to take his tears. He leaned forward and brushed them gently away. “You loved me?” he asked quietly.

“With my life,” breathed Zevran, his breath hitching in his chest. “It was never a lie. I swear this to you, Fenris. I loved you.” He closed his eyes. “I still do,” he whispered softly.

“Why?” the other elf asked in a low voice. 

“I don’t know,” admitted Zevran brokenly. “I only know that I do, and to hear such cruelty and hate in your voice... I would endure a thousand poisoned blades rather than to hear that. You wished to hurt me as you say I hurt you; you have done it, Fenris. You have made my heart bleed, I swear.”

Fenris’ gaze softened at the sound of Zevran’s voice. “I am a cruel man at times, I learned from my master and it appears those lessons stuck.” He said in a low, choked voice. “I do not know how to forgive easily.”

Zevran lacked the strength to do anything more than lie there, sobbing weakly, his tears soaking the carpet beneath his head. 

Fenris pulled the other elf into his arms and rocked him slowly, he spoke quietly in Tevene as he held him close, his own face tracked with tears as they sat tangled on the floor. The exhausted Antivan elf fell silent after a while, his breath occasionally hitching in his chest, his eyes closed, the light pressure of his slender fingers upon Fenris’ hand the only sign he hadn’t drifted entirely into sleep.

The sound of voices in the hall interrupted Fenris’ quiet murmurs and he fell silent as Anders’ voice rose.

“Hawke, he has had nothing to eat or drink apart from a small glass of water early this morning, I don’t give a damn what time it is - I need to make sure he’s OK. Now Maker damn me, either help me or get out of my way!” The apostate sounded exasperated and almost angry.

Fenris didn’t speak, he just looked up when the door swung open to show both mages still arguing even as they stood in the doorway. Anders was trying to juggle a tray with food and a large jug of water, frowning as he turned away from Invictus. “He’ll be badly dehydrated and I-”

He fell silent as he stopped still, taking in the sight of Fenris cradling the limp form of the Antivan elf, both their faces wet with tears.

“How did you even get in here and what did he do to make you cry?” Vic snarled.

“Hawke,” said Anders quietly, a warning note in his voice. “Don’t.” He crossed over to the bed and set the tray down carefully on the bedside table before returning to drop to his knees next to the two elves, still carrying the jug of water.

“Told me the truth and I finally listened.” Fenris said as he looked to Anders.

Anders carefully took the two glasses he’d tucked between his arm and his side and set them on the floor then poured a glass of water, handing it to Fenris. “You could probably do with this,” he said quietly as he filled the second then gently tapped Zevran’s cheek. “How is he? Maker, how on earth could I forget about him like that? Zevran, wake up, you need water.”

Zevran opened his eyes slightly. “Water... yes...” he murmured. Anders set the glass carefully to the elf’s lips and held it as Zevran drank.

“Exhausted, dehydrated, but he’s eaten a bit already.” Fenris said with a sad look to Invictus.

The other mage looked fit to scream but he didn’t, he just spun on his heel and went to their room without another word.

“I am so not in the mood for this,” muttered Anders as he darted a dark glance at the other mage’s back before turning back to Zevran and Fenris. “Zevran, I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have left you so long. Let me just check how you’re healing.” He set the empty glass down then laid a hand on Zevran’s chest, a faint glow illuminating his hand as he concentrated. “Damn, you really did not need this,” he muttered.

“I...I’m sorry.” Fenris rasped.

Anders’ head jerked up. “I was referring to my neglect...” he said, slightly bewildered. He glanced back down at Zevran. “Dehydration has interfered with his body’s healing,” he said slowly. “He really needed to be able to drink plenty of water to flush the remaining poison from his system, and by leaving him so long I’ve made it worse. I’m the one who should be sorry.”

“I tried to wake you but you were sound asleep.” Fenris rumbled softly.

Anders shook his head. “I should have been tending to Zevran instead of sleeping,” he said. He glanced up at Zevran’s face; the blond elf’s eyes were closed, his breathing slow and quiet. “Let’s get him up into bed,” he said quietly.

Fenris gently lifted Zevran to the bed and tucked him in with a gentleness he didn't think he could have mustered even a few hours before for the elven rogue. “Now what?”

Anders checked the blond elf over carefully. “Zevran, can you drink some more water?” he asked quietly. The Antivan opened his eyes slowly. “If you hold the glass,” he said weakly. Anders glanced to Fenris.

“Can you lift him up a little?” he asked the white-haired elf. Without a word, Fenris sat on the edge of the bed and lifted Zevran up gently so he could lean against the elven warrior’s chest.

Anders lifted the glass of water to Zevran’s lips, and he drank obediently; when the glass was empty, Fenris gently laid him down again. Then Anders gently laid his hands on the supine elf and channelled more healing into him. As he worked, Zevran’s eyes closed and his breathing slowed and deepened until he was fast asleep.

Anders continued to work in silence, steadily repairing the damage done by the toxins that had built up in the elf’s body.

“Vic is not happy with me right now is he?” Fenris said hoarsely as he stood aside and watched Anders work.

Anders sighed, not lifting his head. “Hawke is not happy with any of us right now,” he replied as he let the last of his mana drain into the sleeping elf. The light around his hands shimmered, the colour shifting from blue to a paler silvery light.

“I don’t want to go in there when he’s so angry.” the elf said morosely. “It ...it makes me sometimes go back to that dark place in my mind.”

“Not too keen on facing him myself,” confessed Anders, his gaze on the silvery light around his hands. 

“Can we run away to Nevarra? I hear it’s nice there this time of year.” Fenris replied.

Anders chuckled tiredly as he let the silvery magic continue to flow. “Never been to Nevarra,” he said quietly. “Never quite got that far on any of my escapes.”

“Your magic is different, why? It’s not blue anymore...are you...?” Fenris’ question trailed off. “Are you using your own life energy to heal him?”

“Guilty as charged,” said Anders quietly, his eyes still on his hands. “My fault he suffered needlessly this long. His body should have healed of the poison by now, if I’d been paying attention.”

“Stop you’ll hurt yourself.” Fenris said frantically as he grabbed at Anders. “No...please.”

The magic dissipated as Anders reeled back, drained. “My fault,” he breathed, as his eyes closed wearily. 

“No, not your fault. No...you can’t heal if you die. Don’t do this, please.” Fenris begged.

“Won’t die,” said Anders faintly. “Just... very tired. I’ll be OK... just need to sleep.” He leaned against Fenris, putting a hand to his head as a wave of dizziness made the room spin.

“Come on, Hawke will just have to yell later. You need to lie down.” Fenris helped him up and back to the bedroom with a pull on the door. He managed to steer Anders to the bed before the mage’s knees buckled; Anders was unconscious even before his head hit the pillow.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old lessons are deeply ingrained, Fenris chases the rabbit but his eyes are opened. Zev isn't doing well either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Verbal abuse, triggered by past abuse, emotional trauma

Fenris pulled the covers up over the exhausted sleeping apostate, then looked to his other lover.

“Can you ward the door, then feel free to scream and yell all you want once Anders wakes up again.” Fenris said tiredly.

“What happened to him? Wasn’t trying to kill him once today enough?” Vic snarled.

Fenris jerked back away from Anders. “That was low, Invictus,” he said quietly. “Anders exhausted himself healing Zevran.” He kept his tone carefully neutral, trying not to arouse the mage’s ire more than was already the case. “He will recover once he has slept.”

“Why was he even bothering to heal him?” Vic snapped again, he didn’t care that he was being nasty, he was at the end of his admittedly short rope after the fight in the Fade, no break in between Zevran showing up, Anders nearly dying in their bed and whatever he’d seen between Fenris and Zevran.

Fenris glanced to Anders’ sleeping face as he rubbed his arm absently. “He blamed himself for not tending to Zevran earlier,” he said quietly. “Zevran lost a lot of blood and had had only a glass of water early this morning. By the time I took him food, he was badly dehydrated. Anders said it... caused a build-up of toxins in his body. He... felt he had been neglectful in his duties as a healer.” He didn’t dare look at the other mage.

“Fine that explains that, but why were you holding him and sobbing like a damned babe? Not a few hours ago you were calling for his blood and then that? What in the Void changed your mind? This I need to hear.” Vic shouted, not caring that Anders slept a few feet away.

The blond apostate stirred briefly, turning his face into the pillow with a faint sigh. Fenris darted him a worried glance then made a frantic gesture at Invictus to keep his voice down.

“We... we talked,” said Fenris hurriedly. “He was weak, and I thought perhaps in his current state he might finally let the truth slip. I had not realised he had been trying to tell me the truth all along. It... hurt,” he admitted. “He... It is... complicated.” He hunched his shoulders a little against the outburst he felt sure was about to follow.

“Complicated...complicated?” Vic snarled as he advanced on Fenris with rage in his eyes. “You were ready to let him fucking bleed out and toss him to the street not a day ago. Now you’re suddenly weeping over him and saying what? You fucking love him or something? You’ve got me and Anders, you need to round off your collection with a rogue so we’re our own house team? What the fuck is this Fenris?”

Fenris backed away from the furious mage, lifting his hands a little as though he could somehow ward off the words Invictus flung at him with such vitriol. “I...I cannot explain, I... I’m not good with words, Vic, you know this,” he said, his voice contrite. His back hit the wardrobe door and he pressed himself back against it as though he could will himself out of the mage’s reach if he only pushed hard enough.

“You were good enough to make him weep in your arms, good enough to talk to him when half the fucking time talking to you is like getting blood from a godsdamned chunk of granite.” Vic screamed at him, his eyes wild and bright as he cornered the elf against the wardrobe door.

Fenris dropped his gaze to the floor, feeling fear rise up bitter like bile in his throat as the air became heavy with the feel of power barely held in check; like the air before a storm breaks. He closed his eyes, expecting to feel the lyrium brands carved into his body erupt into agony any moment, or the feel of his master’s fists. He hunched in upon himself to make himself seem smaller. “Sorry, ser,” he breathed quietly. “This one is sorry.”

“Sorry… fucking sorry? That’s all you can say is sorry?” Vic raved at him, unaware how Fenris had nearly curled in on himself in terror or the way his lover trembled before him.

“Master, this one is sorry, he begs forgiveness master,” breathed Fenris as he wrapped his arms around his torso, cringing away. “Please master....”

Vic stopped in his tracks when his lover’s plaintive tone finally got to him. “Wha...what did you call me Fenris?” 

“Master, this one is so sorry, master,” whispered Fenris as he dropped to his knees and bent down to kiss Invictus’ feet. “Please forgive this worthless slave master, please....”

“No, no… Maker no, Fenris get up, oh gods please no. I didn’t mean to send you to that bad place, get up.” Vic said as he hauled Fenris to his feet and looked in his eyes. “Look at me, it’s Invictus, Vic… remember? Please love, oh please...not this, please.” he begged Fenris to come back to him. 

“This one is so sorry,” breathed Fenris brokenly. “He begs his master to forgive his worthless hide. Please... don’t make it hurt again....”

“What in the name of Andraste’s flaming arse is going on?” exclaimed Anders behind them, his voice bewildered and thick with sleep. “Hawke, what are you doing to him?”

Vic held Fenris up more out of concern that he’d fall to his knees again and plead mercy than a sense of what to do. “He...he...I screamed at him and it made him go back to this. He’s calling me Master...oh Maker what did I do? Help him, please, I should go… I can’t Anders.” Vic said in a pained whisper. 

Anders groaned as he sat up and dropped his head wearily to his hands. “You _would_ drop this on me now,” he muttered. “I swear, Invictus Hawke, if you try to run from this room then I will freeze your sorry arse to the floor even if the effort floors me.” He lifted his head and glared at Invictus, then sighed as he threw aside the covers and got to his feet, reaching for his staff. He leaned on it heavily as he stepped toward them both.

“Fenris. Do you know who I am?” he asked gently.

“Master Anders, healer of our house.”

Anders sighed. “Very well. Yes, I am... am Anders. Fenris, I need your assistance. Come here.”

"Yes Master." Fenris answered dutifully and dropped before Anders as if he'd never stopped being a slave.

Anders closed his eyes briefly, an expression of pain crossing his pale, drawn features before he opened his eyes and smiled gently down at the elf. "Fenris. I need you to help me back to the bed. I have overspent myself and I need you to protect me. Help me into the bed and then lie down with me; I will only be able to sleep if I know you are sleeping next to me. M-Master Invictus will not harm you. You have done nothing wrong, do you understand?"

"Yes Master Anders, this one understands." Fenris said before he rose to perform his duties.

Anders was grateful for Fenris' assistance back to the bed. The elf was very conscientious, assisting him back into the warm bed, fluffing his pillows and making sure Anders was comfortable before stretching himself along the edge of the bed. Anders sighed.

"Fenris, I need you to hold me. I will not be able to sleep unless I feel your arms about me and know I am safe," he said gently.

"Yes Master, this one will obey." Fenris did as he was bade but did not rest.

Anders cast a wearied look at Invictus. "You had better still be here when I wake up," he murmured. "I hope that's clear?" Without waiting for an answer, he gently reached up to run a hand through Fenris' hair, his hand lighting up with a silvery glow as he did so. He _pushed_ with his magic, sending the elf down into a healing sleep, and then slumped, that small effort taxing him beyond his limits. His hand fell limply back onto the bed as his eyes rolled back into his head, his eyelids fluttering until Invictus could make out only the merest sliver of white between dark eyelashes.

Vic fell into the nearest chair with a ragged sob. "What have I done to him?" He asked aloud, though he knew the answer.

After a moment, Anders drew a deep breath. "I don't know," he said faintly. "But... somehow... we'll fix it." He managed to open his eyes enough to stare unfocused in Invictus' direction. "Don'... don'... leave," he slurred as his eyes closed, dropping swiftly into sleep so deep, his chest barely stirred as he breathed.

Invictus curled up in the chair and looked on as they both slept deeply, one from exhaustion and another from spell induced slumber. He fell into a doze in the chair, his slumber dogged by nightmares of what he’d reduced his lover to. By the time Invictus woke and slipped from the chair, sunlight streamed in, enough for him to see the tense posture Fenris had slept in. Almost as if he expected to be punished for daring to rest, albeit next to who he thought was one of his Masters.

Vic slipped out to wash up and get something to eat, though he might as well have chewed on glass for as much as he enjoyed it. He had Bodahn leave a tray and more water for Zevran then went back to their room to wait out one of them coming around. It had pained him to see the way Fenris seemed so small and terrified of him. He knew how his anger could make the other man retreat to his past but he was so caught up in being furious, he didn’t see the signs, didn’t see how he’d curled away, even trembled before him.

Invictus didn’t know if either man would forgive him. He halfway wished Zevran would find him and end his misery sooner than later. After he got Isabela back, he knew his time would be up. He went to the desk, pulled out parchment, quill and ink to write instructions and a letter to be taken as his will. He didn’t want them to suffer, or be put in the street, the estate sold because his lovers had no legal standing in the city. He murmured to himself as he wrote, and didn’t notice his name being called until a pillow smacked in him the back of the head and Anders beckoned him over.

The mage still looked exhausted, as though even the effort of throwing the pillow had been almost too much. He stared at Invictus, one eyebrow arched. “Don’t tell me you enjoyed my manifestos so much you just had to pen one of your own,” he joked weakly.

“Was just ...getting my affairs in order for after.” Vic said flatly. His eyes were red, his voice was a low rasp and he looked like he was off to the Gallows as soon as he was done with freeing the Pirate Queen he’d betrayed.

“Your... oh Maker.” Anders pushed himself up against the pillows with some effort then held his hand out toward the other mage. “Invictus... Vic. Come here,” he said softly.

Invictus glanced at Fenris then back at Anders hand. “I don’t want to terrify Fenris if he wakes and sees me next to him. I don’t know how he’ll be when he wakes up.” the Champion said as he took a few halting steps before he stood just out of the blond mages reach.

Anders stared at him, then with a small sigh he carefully extricated himself from the bed, tucking the covers back around Fenris. He crossed the short distance to Invictus then grabbed the lapels of his houserobe, dragging him in for a kiss before dropping his head to rest his forehead upon Invictus’ shoulder. “You’re a bloody idiot sometimes,” he said tiredly. “You’re not going to die. That favour he granted Fenris - the one he didn’t specify? He’s going to be your Champion if Isabela decides she wants to go after you. Invictus, you’re not going to die, because Zevran is dead set on dying _for_ you. You and Fenris. _That’s_ why they were both crying. Fenris had gotten it all wrong.” 

He leaned against the stronger mage and made a faint sound of frustration. “I’m trying to keep him alive, keep you two from killing each other, I have to somehow help you bring Fenris back from whatever internal hell you’ve pushed him into and Vic, I am so, so tired. Please don’t do this on top of everything else. Please.”

“You all say these things, but you’ve forgotten one simple thing. What if Isabela doesn’t bother with the niceties of asking him to be her Champion and goes right for my throat on sight? Or she calls in whatever favor he owes her and it’s to kill me? I’ll do what I need to ensure you’re both provided for, but right now we need to tend to Fenris. I should have known better than to yell and scream like that at him. I’m sorry I’m such a shite person to both of you.” Vic said as he wrapped his arms around the other mage and held him close.

“Vic, it’s been two years since you handed her over to the Arishok. Do you honestly think we’ll find her in any fit state to go for anyone’s throat?” Anders murmured. “A year in solitary did for me, and I was only held by templars. And I’d say being rescued from the Qunari would pretty much repay any debt or favour Zevran owes her.” He sighed. “You’re not that bad, love. You just... don’t think, sometimes.” He lifted his head to glance at Fenris. “This... you said this has happened before. How did you bring him out last time?”

“Talked to him, reminded him of where he was. Made sure he wanted for nothing and was gentle as could be until it irritated him. Getting him annoyed seemed to be the best way to make him kind of snap back. But he’s so deep into his past, so far in the hole...I don’t know what to do. He looked ready to be hit even in sleep.” Vic said tiredly. 

Anders nodded slowly. “I’m not sure how long he’ll sleep,” he said quietly. “I was out of mana so... I’ve not tapped into myself for a sleep spell before. If how I’m feeling now is anything to go by, he’ll probably be out for hours.”

“Then let’s get you something to eat and get back here before he wakes up alone and thinks you’re angry as well.” Vic said sadly. “I’m so sorry Fenris.” he whispered as he took in the elf’s form under the blankets. 

Anders nodded. “I’m almost too tired to think straight,” he admitted. “Still a little dizzy, too. There’s this ringing in my ears...” He shook his head distractedly.

“Stay in bed then, I don’t want to chance the stairs. I’ll bring a tray for both of you.” Vic said as he steered Anders back to the comfort of the large, overstuffed bed.

“This is frustrating,” sighed Anders. “There’s so much we need to be doing - that _I_ need to do. I’m not used to being let down by my body like this.”

“Just rest, I’ll be back soon.” Vic gave him a kiss on the forehead and with a last look to Fenris, dashed out to get them a tray of food. He returned with scones, jam, tea, pan fried potatoes and sausage. Orana would not let him leave without a full complement for all three of them. 

“Here, I know you’re warden appetite will help you put a lot of this away.” Vic said as he set the tray down. 

Anders opened his eyes; he’d drifted back into sleep in the silence of the room. As he glanced round, his gaze was distracted, as though he were half in a dream. “What’s that music?” he murmured as he glanced round, sitting up.

“There’s no music, there is food however.” Vic said as he passed Anders a plate. “Would you wake him? I’m...afraid to.” 

Anders set his plate down carefully then rolled over to gently rest a hand on Fenris’ shoulder. “Fenris, love, breakfast,” he said quietly as he lifted the sleep spell. Then he rested his head on the pillow next to Fenris to watch carefully as the elf slowly opened his eyes.

The elf blinked a few times and looked up to see Anders next to him, and Invictus was in the chair farthest from the bed, his expression tense. “What happened? You both look terrible.” he said slowly. He felt tired and confused, like something was wrong but he couldn’t recall it.

“I’ve been pushing myself too hard,” said Anders quietly. “I’m probably going to end up paying for it for the next couple of days, but it doesn’t matter. You should eat; I don’t think any of us ate a proper meal yesterday.”

“No...something is wrong. I feel strange.” Fenris said as he forced himself to sit up then glanced at Invictus. He stared at his lover for a drawn out moment before his eyes widened. “Last night...I…Vic,” he faltered as he recalled the terror he’d felt as Vic lost his temper with him. 

Anders wrapped his long arms around the elf as he sat up, pressing light kisses between the elf’s shoulderblades. “Easy, love,” he said quietly. “You’re safe. Vic isn’t going to do anything to you except walk over here _very slowly_ -” He shot Invictus a hard, intense, warning look. “And he’s going to sit on the edge of the bed and tell you exactly how sorry he is and why he is going to do his damned hardest to never, ever lose his temper at you like that ever again. Aren’t you, Invictus Hawke?”

Vic nodded as he looked at them both then carefully picked his way over to the bed. His heart nearly broke when Fenris flinched back as far as he could while held by their other lover.

“Love...Fenris.” Vic started but found the words stuck in his throat as he saw the way the elf’s eyes remained startled, afraid of him.

“It’s OK, it’s OK,” crooned Anders soothingly as he carded his fingers gently through Fenris’ hair, his other hand rubbing light circles over the elf’s chest. “He’s not going to hurt you. He’s never going to hurt you. I promise you’re not in trouble love. You’re not going to be punished. You did nothing wrong. I swear I won’t let him hurt you.”

Fenris whimpered as he tried to back away, the terror of the previous night trying to cloud his mind as he thought about how furious Vic had been, how he’d towered over him.

“Fenris, please I am sorry. I am so, so, sorry. I have no excuse for last night. I didn’t see the signs of you retreating to your past, that darkness. Forgive me beloved, forgive me I beg of you. I will never do that again, I swear it to you. Please, even if you can’t do it right now, eventually realize just how sorry I am for what I pushed you to last night. Please.” Invictus had dropped to his knees before the bed and hung his head in contrition as he asked for his lovers forgiveness.

Anders closed his eyes as he pressed his palm flat against Fenris’ chest, over his heart, and let healing magic flow as lightly, soothingly, gently as he could with the delicate touch only a spirit healer could possess. “You are loved,” he breathed softly. “You are cherished. You are protected. You are safe.”

“No...not safe, I need to go, please.” Fenris said in a panic, his heart raced and he felt the need to flee. To get away and escape both of them. “No magic, no magic…” he begged as he tried to twist out of Anders grasp.

Anders sighed noiselessly, and the blue light around his hands shifted to a pure silvery white as he reached beyond magic to touch the terrified elf with his own life essence. “Come back to me love,” he breathed.

“He’s terrified, let him go Anders.” Vic said dully as he reached for the mage’s hands. “Just...let him leave if he’s so inclined.”

Fenris scrambled back, unable to free himself from Anders grasp, it was like he forgot he was stronger than the mage and could only focus on the attempt of fleeing. 

“Not magic,” breathed Anders, his grasp upon the elf weakening. “My... life.” 

“No...no…” Fenris said as he took Anders hands in his. “Not that. I’ll stay, I’ll stay here.” he said quietly as he held Anders to him and away from Vic as if he needed to protect him from the Champion. 

Vic backed away and stumbled to a chair. “I’m sorry, I’ll leave for a while, let you both talk. He’s not listening to me, still too frightened.” he said brokenly. 

“It’s... not enough... can’t heal you... it’s not enough,” breathed Anders. “I’m sorry, I’m... not strong enough....”

“Don’t use your own life, don’t, not for me.” Fenris said as he cradled Anders in his arms and rocked him gently. “I’ll...be alright, eventually. Just don’t do this. Can you, will you have breakfast with me?” Fenris asked softly with a dirty look to Invictus.

“You, leave. I don’t want to see you. I don’t care where you go, what you do but get out.” He growled at Vic, his emerald eyes sharp and bright with anger.

“Of course.” Vic said brokenly before he ran from the room and to the study. He was thankful the thick wood doors kept the sounds of his grief in the room. The last thing he wanted was pity, especially undeserved as it would be.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zevran comforts Fenris, whilst Anders retreats a little. And is there any way in which Fenris and Vic can talk without both getting completely the wrong end of the stick?

When he awoke, there was a fresh carafe of cool water within reach of his hand and a tray of food. As Zevran sat up and reached for the water, he realised he was in far less pain than he had expected; indeed, he felt remarkably well, considering the state he had been in when he had passed out in Fenris’ arms.

Fenris....

The elf paused as he reached for the tray of food, and pondered. The white-haired warrior had taken quite shameless advantage of Zevran’s weakened state to drag from him the truth. The Antivan could hardly fault Fenris for having done so. But his response... Zevran had not dared hope that a small spark of affection still remained in the other elf’s heart for him, but to have bared himself so utterly and allowed himself to break in front of Fenris - it was worth it. To know that he had not loved in vain; he would willingly have humiliated himself a thousand times over to hear that soft tenderness in the elf’s voice once more.

He drank and ate swiftly, his body craving the food urgently. Not a scrap or morsel remained on the tray once he had finished, and the carafe was empty.

Another urgent need suddenly made itself felt, and Zevran swung his legs out of the bed and went in search of a chamberpot. That need relieved, he turned and glanced around the room.

Sunlight streamed through the curtains; he made his way to the window but paused, natural caution staying his hand before he could throw back the heavy drapes. He peered out between the velvet folds.

At first the street seemed normal, the passing foot traffic much as one might expect at this time of the morning in Hightown. But it didn’t take long for his trained eyes to pick out the patterns; a passing merchant who lingered too long on the corner, a man who took just a heartbeat longer than necessary to tie a loose shoelace, an urchin who reappeared too soon around the same corner. The house was being watched; of that, he was certain.

He withdrew from the window and dressed swiftly before approaching the door. Brushing the doorknob lightly with the backs of his fingers, he nodded with satisfaction when there was no answering surge of electricity. The ward had worn off, and no-one had bothered reapplying it.

With a smile, Zevran slipped silently from the room.

Invictus had nodded out in the chair for a few hours but finally came around when his body’s needs made themselves known when he stood up. With a groan he went to the nearest privy, and on his way back saw a flash of dark blond hair right before the study door shut. “I really hope that was Anders.” he murmured as he approached the door cautiously.

Anders stood before the cold fireplace, staring absently at the grate, one hand resting on the mantelpiece. He didn’t turn as Invictus entered but remained still, absently humming something to himself that Invictus didn’t quite recognise.

“Anders? Where’s Fenris, are you alright?” Vic asked as he looked around the room, sure that the elven assassin was who he saw enter, not his lover.

Anders fell silent for a moment. “He’s sleeping,” he said quietly. “I couldn’t. Though Maker knows I’m tired enough. But then I’m always tired, it seems,” he added, as though to himself. 

“Are you alone? I swore I saw ...maybe I’m losing my mind, would serve me right.” Vic let his spell dissipate before he came over to sit by the other mage. “Fuck...what am I to do? The anger in his eyes, he’s rarely been so furious with me.”

“Can you blame him?” said Anders quietly, his voice almost colourless as he rested his forehead against the mantelpiece. “Zevran, stop hiding in the curtains,” he added, a little louder. “Hawke isn’t going to kill you whilst I’m here. He knows it would make me rather... disappointed... to have my work undone.”

The elven assassin stepped out from the folds of the drapes and executed a graceful bow. “I am uncovered,” he smiled. “Though in truth I was not hiding. Your house is being watched, fr-” He checked himself. “Hawke.”

Whatever Invictus was going to say stilled on his tongue. He glanced at Zevran then at his lover with a tired, angry expression. “Who let you out?”

“Whoever let the ward upon the door expire, I should think,” replied the elf with a nonchalant shrug. “The door was unlocked; I assumed I was free to leave should I wish. You would prefer to lock me up?”

“I’d prefer you leave altogether but that’s not going to happen.” Vic said in a huff. He turned to glance at Anders before he rose to leave. “I’ll be in our room, unless Fenris is still rightly angry.”

“He was before he fell asleep,” shrugged Anders. “I don’t know about now though. That was some time ago.” He turned a little towards Invictus, a slightly lost look in his eyes. “Stay... please?”

“Why? I’m sure you’d rather catch up with him without my presence. Unless you think I should stay away from Fenris for the time being?” Vic said in defeat, and slumped further into the chair.

Zevran shot Anders a sharp look. “Hawke, perhaps you should attend to your healer,” he said quietly. “Sometimes it is not good to be alone, no? I shall see myself back to my room like a good little prisoner.” The elf skirted around the dark-skinned mage with another elegant bow and slipped from the room.

“What I don’t need, advice from an assassin on how to treat you.” Vic muttered before he looked to the other mage. “I’m here, what did you want from me?”

“Just your company,” said Anders quietly as he made his way over to Invictus’ chair and dropped down to sit by his feet, wrapping his long arms around his legs and resting his chin on his knees as he stared back at the dead fireplace.

“You’re the only one that wants it.” Vic muttered before he waved a hand tiredly and got the fire going.

After a little while, Invictus felt a pressure on his leg as Anders leaned silently against it, staring into the flames with a distant look on his face.

“What’s wrong? You put Malum to shame with your puppy dog eyes.” Vic muttered.

“It’s nothing,” said Anders quietly. “Just tired. So much has been going on, I’ve barely had time to think. I just want to be near you and... well. Not think, really.” His voice sounded weary.

The blond mage stared into the flames, his thoughts drifting greyly. Grey... yes, he felt grey. Grey, and worn, and tired. Of course he was tired; they’d had no chance to really rest for quite some time now - what with journeying to Sundermount, then the fight in the Fade - not to mention the fighting between themselves. Maker, was being in love supposed to be this one long battlefield? It had never seemed that way with Karl. 

Hawke and Fenris were very different from Karl; very different men, both with their own share of hurt and trauma in their past. Sharp edges just below the surface that would cut when you least expected it, and sometimes they didn’t even realise they’d caused harm - to themselves, to each other. To him.

He loved them, but he didn’t think love was supposed to hurt like this. Then again, what did he know of love, really? Not much more than Justice, when you got right down to it.

Justice... ah yes, there was another source of pain. A hollow emptiness where once there had been surety; an assurance that whatever happened, he would never be utterly, completely alone. And yet now there was silence where before there had been surety. It felt like half his heart, his soul had been ripped away, and though he’d patched up the pieces and tried to move on, it wouldn’t quite heal. 

He’d tried not to think on it, but grief had a habit of slipping up on him unawares.

Grief... yes, that was what he had been feeling steadily growing in the quiet moments when he dared let himself actually feel, think on what had happened. His friend was gone, and even though he knew his own anger and fear had been warping Justice, still he had been his friend, his one constant companion even when alone in the still of the night. A reassurance that there would always be another voice in the darkness. 

That had been the worst thing of being tied to the bed. The utter alone-ness and silence. Nothing could have emphasised to him so completely that Justice was gone than that complete silence inside. Even at his most quiet disapproving, Anders had always been _aware_ of Justice’s presence. To have it gone... it was like a little glimpse of what it might be to be Tranquil, his connection to the fade severed forever. Except then he wouldn’t be able to feel, to grieve.

Stop thinking. Thinking hurt too much. Easier to just be grey. Tired and grey. He rested his head against Invictus’ knee and tried not to think at all.

“I could do with not thinking myself. Seems I get into more trouble than not when I attempt it.” Vic said tiredly. He reached out to card his fingers through the dark blond strands of Anders hair, not really aiming to do more than reassure himself one person thought his company worth having. And that he knew Anders craved touch like he craved air.

“Do you think Fenris will forgive me, eventually?” Vic said idly as he watched the flames dance and let his mind wander while they sat there together. He half wondered if Zevran had actually gone to the room or if he’d gone elsewhere in the house, but he couldn’t find the energy to care.

Anders had begun to drift almost into a light doze, hypnotised into a blank mental place where he drifted, only anchored to reality by the touch of Invictus' fingers through his hair, but at Invictus' question he roused, blinking almost regretfully. "I think so," he said quietly. "He loves you. He's just... very angry right now."

“I hope so, I don’t know what I’ll do if he leaves me.” Vic admitted quietly.

"I don't think he will," Anders said carefully. "I think he would have done so if he was going to. He's very... direct." He said nothing of how Fenris would also have to choose to leave _him_ in that case. Or would the elf try to persuade him to leave with him? _Don't think about it._

“I can hope so.” Vic muttered, his hand had slowed along with his own disordered thoughts. “I’m going to see him in a bit, see if he’s awake and willing to talk.” 

Anders was unwilling to get up; he was warm and moderately comfortable here, but Invictus might question him if he simply stayed here to sleep, which truth be told was all he felt like doing. Sleeping was safe; he might not enjoy the dreams that might plague him, but at least he wouldn't be _thinking_ whilst he was doing it.

“You should come and sleep, if Fenris is still asleep rest with him. If not, maybe he and I can go elsewhere to talk. You’re halfway there anyway.” Vic said as he gave Anders one last caress to his head and nudged him to get up.

Anders nodded and wearily got to his feet to follow the other mage.

Vic went into the room quietly, sure he didn’t want to wake the elf if he was resting still. But the bed was empty; evidently the elf had roused whilst they were in the study. Anders glanced around the empty room before his gaze was drawn back longingly to the bed.

“Go rest, I might just join you.” Vic said as he nudged Anders towards the fluffed pillows and rumpled bedcovers. “If I go after him, he’ll just be angry.” 

Anders crawled into the bed gratefully, burying his face in the pillows. They still smelled of lyrium and sword oil, that particular scent that was uniquely Fenris. It was comforting as he curled up, hiding beneath the covers and waiting to sink into the oblivion of sleep again.

Invictus tugged off his tunic, crawled in next to Anders and held the blond mage close to him. “Can’t sleep...will stay here.” he muttered, his voice betrayed how tired he was even if he didn’t admit to it.

Anders found sleep was not claiming him as swiftly as he had yearned for either, but he deliberately slowed his breathing, his eyes closed. Maybe if Invictus thought him asleep, he wouldn't expect him to talk.

Vic closed his eyes and remained silent, and enjoyed just holding Anders to him. He was glad he was still trusted to lay with him and keep him safe. 

Anders' thoughts drifted once more. The bed was warm, his body relaxed. He began to faintly hum to himself, unaware he was doing so.

Vic turned towards the other man’s voice and smiled, glad he felt comfortable and safe with him. “Sounds...nice.” he mumbled, more on his way to sleep that his bedmate.

Anders fell silent, suddenly self-conscious. He shifted slightly.

“No, like it… please don’t stop.” Invictus said quietly, his gaze on the blond was hopeful. 

"I... don't know what I was humming," the blond apostate quietly confessed. "Just... something running through my head."

“You’ve got a nice voice. I’ll be quiet, just if you start again, don’t stop.” Vic said with a gentle squeeze to his lover. 

Anders frowned slightly, trying to remember what he'd been thinking about. His mind had been pleasantly blank. He pondered for a moment. There was... a fragment of something... a prickly, almost unclean feeling in the back of his head; a feeling of low ceilings crowding in, unnatural red light, a voice....

He shivered slightly, and then he began to hum very, very softly.

**

Fenris had awoken not long after Anders had left him. When he could not fall asleep, he roamed the house in search of something, or someone. His mind was unsettled, and it had to do with a blond elf that was somewhere in their home. After hearing Vic and Anders’ voices in the study, he went on to Zevran’s room, unsure if the other elf was there or had gone on an expedition to map out the house. He knocked briskly, unsure if he _wanted_ the elf to be in.

“It is open,” called back a heavily-accented voice.

Fenris pushed the door open and glanced inside before he entered and let the door shut behind him. The blond Antivan elf was nowhere to be seen.

“Ah, Fenris!” There was genuine pleasure in the disembodied voice. “I had begun to think perhaps I had been forgotten, no? Maybe Anders needed you both more than your unexpected house-guest. You slept well?” Fenris couldn’t work out where exactly Zevran’s voice was coming from.

“Well enough, stop hiding in the shadows and come out where I can see you.” Fenris said.

“Look up, not at your feet!” called Zevran. As Fenris lifted his eyes, Zevran dropped into view, hanging by his knees from the canopy of the bed, hair hanging in loose golden falls as he smiled upside down.

“You are not actually a bird.” Fenris said dryly as he observed the other elf as he hung before him. He was tired, he’d not slept well at all but he was still too wound up from his fight with Invictus to deal with him or put Anders through anything else.

“Are you going to hang there all day or come down like a normal elf?” he asked as Zevran continued to grin at him.

“Ah, a moment,” said the elf, reaching up with one hand to grasp the canopy as his legs slipped free. He hung from one hand for a moment then swung lightly back to drop upon the bed. “You did not sleep well,” he observed quietly. “There was a fight. Over... me?” He actually looked contrite as he looked up at Fenris and gestured him closer.

“To a degree.” the elven fighter replied as he hesitated, almost at war with himself before he finally stepped over to the Antivan.

“I am sorry,” said Zevran quietly, the look he gave Fenris one of sincerity. “How may I make amends, or at least ease this rift?”

“There is nothing you can do, other than depart our home and never darken the doorway again. This is...something you cannot heal.” Fenris replied tiredly.

Zevran reached for his hand and held it lightly. “I cannot do that, alas,” the Antivan elf said softly. “Hawke owes me this boon, as I owe you one. I cannot free Isabela alone - and I owe her _this_ boon. Debts, and debts to be repaid. When all is done, then, if you give the word I swear to you, Fenris, should I still draw breath and should you still wish it, I shall never be seen in Kirkwall again. It will be as though I never existed. Is this your wish?

“No...you know it isn’t my wish. I want...I want the spectre of my past to leave me. I wish I did not still cower when---” Fenris shut his mouth and looked away from the other elf, chagrined that he’d let that much slip.

Zevran’s fingers tightened slightly around his hand. “The past is not so distant as we like to think,” the former Crow said softly. “And old habits and taught behaviours can be hard to shake at times.”

“I feel as if I’ll never shake them.” Fenris said in reply.

Zevran lifted Fenris’ hand to his lips and kissed the lyrium-lined fingers lightly. “I know that fear only too well,” he admitted quietly.

The taller elven fighter didn’t know what to do in the face of such gentleness after his row with Invictus so he simply stood there.

Zevran stared up at him, and then gently reached out and took hold of Fenris’ other hand, then turned the other elf’s hands over, palm uppermost, and bent down to place a gentle kiss in each before glancing up to gauge the white-haired warrior’s reaction.

Fenris blinked, undone by the gentleness in the other elf’s touch. He sniffed then closed his eyes against the tears that threatened to spill. He was overwhelmed and near a melt down after the hard week they’d had.

Zevran gently drew him down to sit upon the edge of the bed next to the blond elf, and then he lifted a hand to lightly stroke Fenris’ cheek. “Do not be afraid of tears,” he said softly. “They are not a weakness. They can heal if you allow them... _carissimi_.” His smile was reassuring. 

“I too have been a slave in my own way, and I know all too well how hard it is to resist the easy path. So much easier to cower, beg forgiveness, even when we have done nothing wrong, rather than face the master’s wrath, is it not? Even when that master is long dead, and none but we can still see and feel those scars. The scars upon one’s heart - they are still there, no?”

Fenris stared at him, wonderingly, even as the tears spilled free. He could feel them rolling hot and wet down his cheeks, and yet he felt no shame as Zevran nodded understanding. The blond drew him into his arms, and Fenris went willingly, his face tilted up towards Zevran as the other elf bent his head and kissed the tears, tasting their salty tang.

“Ah, only those we love can really hurt us thus, Fenris. Only those to whom we open our hearts. Our masters are dead, but we willingly enslave ourselves, baring those scars anew,” murmured Zevran in his ear, his breath warm. “If we did not open ourselves to love, we would not be so vulnerable when they turn upon us and use our innermost weaknesses to hurt us. But it is their own weakness and pain that makes them do it.” He pressed soft kisses along Fenris’ jaw and down the side of his neck and Fenris tilted his head, allowing him.

“Hawke is weak, Fenris; he is weak inside. It is his weakness and fear that makes him lash out at you, for he knows that he cannot hurt you otherwise. You are far stronger than he, than your master; for if you had not given Hawke your heart then he would never gotten close enough to wield such weapons upon you, do you see? Your master is dead, and Hawke is a man afraid. You are stronger than either of them; you are a beautiful sword forged in fire, deadly, graceful, beautiful and stronger than they could ever have dreamed.” 

Zevran’s fingers were in Fenris’ hair, stroking along the shell of his sensitive ears; stroking down the warrior elf’s back, firm, reassuring, each touch almost electrifying as the blond elf dipped his head to traced kisses along Fenris’ collarbone then mouthing through the fabric of his tunic as Fenris’ hands rose almost of their own accord to thread into the silky blond hair. Zevran was sinking to his knees upon the floor in front of Fenris, kissing lower down his torso, mouthing his nipples through the tunic then working lower, lower as his hands ran down Fenris’ sides, down his hips, splaying across his thighs as the blond elf nuzzled his belt and then his head dipped lower, his nose pressed into Fenris’ groin as he mouthed the white-haired elf through the thin fabric of his pants, warm and inviting, and Fenris groaned.

“You are worthy of worship, my beautiful strong one,” breathed Zevran breathlessly. “Let me kneel at your altar and worship you. Let me show you the gentle reverence you deserve, _carissimi_.”

Fenris’ fingers tightened a little in Zevran’s hair. “Go... go on,” Fenris managed huskily as he stared down at the other elf, his eyes dark.

Zevran pulled at the laces of Fenris’ pants with his teeth, tugging them free deftly as he lifted a hand from Fenris’ thigh to cup his balls, palming them then squeezing through the fabric of his pants as the other elf groaned. Then he reached up and slid the pants down a little over Fenris’ hips until his growing erection bobbed free.

Fenris lifted himself off the bed enough for Zevran to slide his pants down to his thighs, then sank back down onto the bed as the blond elf tugged them all the way off before settling himself between Fenris’ thighs once more. Zevran slipped the fingers of one hand into his mouth, staring up at Fenris as he worked his digits in and out of that wet, red mouth with a low moan. Fenris felt his breath quickening as he watched Zevran, and he felt himself grow hard.

This was insane. Not a full twenty-four hours ago Invictus had terrified him into a full mental retreat to a very bad place, cowed and cowering, a shadow of himself - and here he was, watching Zevran mouthing and tonguing his own fingers and feeling a desperate urge to pull those slender fingers away and slam his cock home through those maddeningly bewitching lips. How could he go from fear, to rage, to lust all so quickly within the space of less than a day?

As though hearing his thoughts, Zevran chuckled; a low, throaty sound. The fingers slipped free and he bent down, and then hot wet warmth was swallowing up his cock, taking him in right down to the root, and any pretense at rational thought fled his brain as he groaned and reflexively thrust his hips towards that inviting wetness.

Zevran pressed his tongue flat against the underside of Fenris’ cock as the other elf thrust into his mouth, and then as Fenris withdrew the blond elf flicked his tongue over the sensitive glans, probing the slit briefly before drawing Fenris back deep inside, hollowing his cheeks and sucking before swallowing around the other elf’s member even as his wet fingers gently probed Fenris’ entrance, the tip of his forefinger pushing gently in.

Fenris let his head drop back between his shoulderblades, panting, as he felt Zevran’s finger gently breach the ring of muscle and slip into him, all the while working his cock skillfully with that sinfully talented tongue, mouth and throat. Zevran swallowed him down then laved his member with attentive tongue, his other hand squeezing comfortingly on Fenris’ thigh as the elf moaned. Then Zevran swallowed him down again even as the finger inside thrust deeper, twisting and brushing him him just _there_ and oh Maker, but he was so close, so close already.

Zevran hummed and smiled around the mouthful of cock as his free hand squeezed Fenris’ thigh again. Fenris couldn’t hold back the instinct to thrust into that hot, tight throat as Zevran took him in right down to the base, the blond elf’s nose pressed against his abdomen; and his fingers tightened in Zevran’s hair as he began to thrust with a sense of urgency even as he felt a second finger slip inside him to join the first.

“Zev-Zevran,” he gasped, “I’m... I’m close....”

Zevran purred, the vibration adding a delicious extra dimension to the sensations in Fenris’ body as the two fingers deep inside him twisted, hooked and then pushed just there again and he cried out, his body jerking as he pounded harder and faster into Zevran’s throat.

“C-can’t,” Fenris panted as his climax surged closer. “I’m going to-”

And then Zevran’s fingers thrust, grazing that sweet spot over, and over, and he was coming oh dear Maker he was coming and he couldn’t have stopped even if he’d wanted to and Zevran was swallowing even as he spent his seed deep in the Antivan elf’s throat before he fell back with a hoarse cry, Zevran’s fingers slipping loose from his body.

He lay on his back, panting, staring at the canopy over the bed as he felt the mattress dip, and then Zevran was leaning over him with a tender smile. The blond elf bent down and kissed him, and Fenris could taste himself on the other elf’s tongue.

“You are beautiful, and I worship and adore you, _carissimi_ ,” smiled Zevran.

“What...does that mean?” Fenris rasped softly, his breathing was harsh and he felt like he could sleep for a week.

Zevran leaned closer, his breath ghosting across Fenris’ ear. “Beloved,” whispered the Antivan elf.

“You give me too much honor.” Fenris said.

“Ah, but the subject of my worship is worthy of such honour, for he holds my heart,” smiled Zevran softly, gently bestowing soft kisses along Fenris’ jaw.

That made Fenris sniffle again, and bow his head as he let himself be cherished in the other elf’s hold.

Zevran murmured soothingly to him, holding him close as he gently stroked Fenris’ hair, pressing light kisses to his face.

“I don’t...deserve this.” the elf rasped before he fell back on the bed and sighed. “How can you be kind to me after what I said to you?” Fenris asked.

“Because I love you, dear heart,” said Zevran gently. “You think you can destroy what I feel with mere words? You would have to pluck my beating heart from my breast to do that and yet still I would love you even after death. You are my life now, Fenris. You give me a reason to breathe. So long as you live in this world then there is nothing you can do or say to end that.”

“You know Invictus and Anders will not allow you to remain here once your business is concluded.” Fenris said tiredly as he curled against the bedding, almost asleep despite his state of undress and that he had been ready to kill the other elf just a couple days prior.

“Do not think on that now, dear heart,” said Zevran as he gently brushed an errant strand of white hair out of Fenris’ eyes. “There are many miles to go and much time before my business is done, and much may change in that time. It is useless to speculate upon what-ifs, yes?”

“Yes, may I stay for a while? I am not yet ready to speak with them. It is much nicer to remain warm and embraced instead of tense and worried.” Fenris said tiredly.

“But of course,” smiled Zevran gently. “Stay as long as you wish; I am... confined here for now.”

“There are no wards, it’s not as if the door is locked.” Fenris said tiredly as he pulled his tunic off, did his pants back up and curled under the covers to rest.

“Hawke I think would prefer I remain here, and Anders... I thought it best not to trouble our good healer any further, yes?” He tugged the covers up a little around Fenris’ shoulders.

“Sure.” Fenris mumbled as his eyes closed and he turned towards Zevran. “This will be interesting come morning.” 

“Oh? How so?” asked Zevran with an idle smile.

“Either Anders will come in to find me here and be willing to talk to me as a person and just find out what happened. Or Vic will come in and assume the worst. I don’t care, I just want to have a few hours uninterrupted sleep until we have to deal with rescuing Isabela.” Fenris said with a hint of annoyance as he tried to get comfortable.

“Ah. Hmm.” Zevran glanced over at the door. “Your Invictus seems to prefer I keep as far away from him as possible but he may come looking for you,” he conceded. “Perhaps he will be concerned enough with Anders to keep him distracted, yes?”

“If he does fine, if he doesn’t, I don’t care right now. Sleep Zevran, I just need rest.” Fenris said as he tried to settle once more.

The blond elf lay down with Fenris, bestowing a light kiss upon the soft white hair. “Then sleep, dear one,” he said quietly, gently running a hand lightly through Fenris’ hair.

A light snore was Fenris’ answer, his face slack in sleep and his posture finally relaxed in the other elf’s arms. It was some time later that Zevran was finally able to drift off to sleep himself.

**  
Vic had slept poorly even in Anders arms, and when he opened his eyes to see that Fenris was still not in bed, it made his stomach twinge as he made his way to the room where Zevran claimed he’d be in.

When he swung the door open, he felt as if he’d been stabbed in the chest and breathing had become difficult as he saw the two elves entwined in slumber. 

Zevran was instantly awake the moment he heard the door start to open, but he held himself still, no change in his breathing, waiting to see what Invictus would do.

The mage stood there and stared at them, his expression broken as his mind supplied every bad thought he could come up with as to why Fenris had come to Zevran in the night. 

Zevran’s back crawled, an itch between his shoulderblades as he pictured the mage stood behind him, his ears alert, visualising precisely where Invictus stood from the sounds he made. His hand tightened on Fenris’ shoulder.

That made Fenris’ eyes open slowly, unsure if he was in danger or the other elf had moved in his sleep. He looked to the open door and saw Invictus there, his gaze remained on the mage as he sat up to show he still was half-dressed. “Yes Vic?”

As he felt Fenris move, Zevran’s eyes opened to the merest slits but he lay still, still feigning sleep.

“I...breakfast will be ready soon, come down when you’re ready. Both of you.” Vic said as he looked away from them and at the wall over Fenris’ shoulder.

Zevran opened his eyes fully and glanced up at Fenris, murmuring in Tevene as he asked if Fenris was alright.

“Yes, I think he’s fine. After all he didn’t have to see me for the last day or so. If you will excuse me.” Vic said with a hitch in his voice as he tried to keep himself in check, if only to keep from repeating his past mistake.

“I can speak for myself Hawke.” Fenris growled as he stood up and looked for his tunic.

“I’ll just go, my apologies Fenris.” he replied contritely. 

Zevran rolled onto his back then sat up, deliberately not looking at the mage. He reached over the side of the bed and snatched up Fenris’ tunic, passing it to the other elf.

“Going to run away again?” Fenris said after he’d tugged his tunic on and smoothed it over his chest as he glared at Vic’s back. Zevran was fishing for his own clothes down the side of the bed, having slept naked as was his custom. He glanced over at Fenris as he straightened, but said nothing. This was between Invictus and Fenris, and Zevran had no right to speak unless either man chose to involve him.

“What is there to say Fenris?” Vic said quietly as he turned to face the elf. “I don’t own you, I have no say in what you do. I offered an apology and I don’t know if you even wanted it, so I’m going to go have breakfast and then we’ll hear what he has to say about me keeping my promise.” Vic looked to Fenris, unsure if the elven warrior would see what it cost him to speak of their problems in front of the assassin. 

Zevran turned away and dressed with his back to the mage. “Would it be easier if I went ahead to the dining room, beloved?” he asked Fenris softly in Tevene. “Perhaps he would find it easier to explain himself were I not present.”

“If you wish.” Fenris said in Trade as he held Vic’s gaze.

Zevran finally turned and glanced to Invictus now he was fully dressed. He essayed a small bow. “Then I shall withdraw,” he said quietly. He made his way to the door, skirting around Invictus without making it seem obvious.

Once Zevran was gone, Vic looked to Fenris and tried to keep the pained expression off his face. “I’ll keep out of your way, both of you.” he finally said, his tone defeated. 

“And what will that solve, Invictus?” snapped Fenris.

“Nothing, your choice is apparent. You slept here with him and not Anders or I. What else am I to think?” Invictus snapped back before he checked himself. “I am sorry for what I did to you, I should not have raged at you so.” 

“My...choice?” Fenris frowned. “So, because I choose to sleep here... am I then....” His voice tailed off.

“I don’t know what you are to me right now. It seems you’ve chosen a new path with him.” Vic said tiredly. “I knew...I would do this one day.” he glanced away and folded his arms over himself as if he could shield himself from what he thought the elf would say.

Fenris glanced towards the door then back at Invictus. “You mean... that because I chose to spend one night here instead of returning to share the bed with you and Anders... that you have chosen to....” His expression was troubled. “Then... we are... are we no longer....” He tailed off, and an anguished look dawned in his eyes. “But do I not get a say? You would decide this without asking - what of Anders? Do he and I not get a say before I am cast out?”

“You’re not cast out. I thought you had chosen Zevran after I’d hurt you. I am not making a choice Fenris, I will not argue with this if its what you want, after all I did this to us with my temper.” Vic said as he looked down at the floor and tried to keep himself together. “I cannot speak for Anders, but you both will always have a home here,no matter what happens between us. I love you, but ...if I have broken what we have built, I will not stand in your way.” 

“If this is what I want?” echoed Fenris, disbelievingly. “At what point did you actually _ask_ me what I wanted, Invictus Hawke, before you decided for yourself I had made a decision I was not aware was even there to be made??” There was little heat in Fenris’ voice, only stunned confusion.

“Then I’ll ask since I making a mess of this.” Vic said in defeat. “Do you still want to be with me after what I’ve done? Do you want to be with _him_ instead?” 

“Are you giving me an ultimatum?” asked Fenris quietly. “Must I choose between you both? Is this what it comes down to, in the end?”

“No… fuck I’m not giving you an ultimatum. Maker damn me Fenris, I’m giving you an out if you want to leave me. I did a horrible thing to you and if you want nothing more to do with me, then so be it. Just...what do you want, please tell me so I can try to make it right between us, or so I can grieve. Either way, it broke my heart to see you so comfortable and happy with him there.” Invictus wiped at his eyes and slid against the door as he ran his fingers through his hair and tried to not let his fear and frustration show. 

“When did I ever say I wanted to leave you, Invictus?” said Fenris, his tone one of hurt and bewilderment. “I was angry, hurt, scared - yes, all of those things. But if I had wanted to leave, do you not think I would have simply done so? No, I do not want to leave you. I want you to master your temper so that I can trust you again - but leave you?” He shook his head. “Have you said a word of any of this to Anders?”

“I said I was worried you would not forgive me. That I was scared that this might be a path you took.” Vic said quietly.

“But without actually _asking_ me,” sighed Fenris. “I cannot imagine he would have taken that well.”

“When you weren’t in the room, I figured you were still angry, and didn’t want to see me.” Vic confessed. “Fine, I’m asking. What do you want? Do you still want me?” the mage asked in a low voice, his gaze on the floor as he awaited the answer. 

Fenris crossed the short distance between them but stopped just short of touching the mage. “Did you not hear a word I said?” he said softly. “I want to stay. I want there to be love and gentleness between us once more, Vic. I don’t want to feel fear when you lose your temper, or see you retreat away from me should I lose mine.”

“As you wish Fenris, I will endeavor to do better.” Vic said softly. He kept his gaze on the floor, his posture was contrite, still tense as if he wanted to flee from the elf.

“Will you not at least look into my eyes as you say such things, Vic?” said Fenris a little plaintively.

Invictus looked up at the elven fighter, his gaze steady despite his urge to look to the floor. 

Fenris cradled the mage’s face between his palms, drawing Invictus down a little as he tilted his face up to kiss him.

Vic flinched, unsure if he wanted the elf to kiss him after he’d lain with Zevran. “Sorry...I...I’m sorry.” the mage said as he looked at the confusion in Fenris’ gaze.

Fenris stared up at him for a moment, then slowly withdrew, the confusion giving way to quiet hurt. 

“I’m sorry, please try to understand Fenris. I’m just hurting a bit right now. It’s not you.” Vic said as he held onto the elf’s hands. “Please…” he begged his lover.

“I... understand,” said Fenris quietly, his voice a little rough. “We... we should go wake Anders.”

“Not yet, I need to know if we’re ok.” Vic said softly. “Will we be alright?”

Fenris dropped his gaze to the mage’s hands as they held his own. “I... do not know,” he admitted softly. “I want us to be. But there is hurt on both sides that I fear will take time to heal.”

Vic made a strangled sound before he dropped Fenris’ hands and rose. “I’ll be downstairs.” he said before he dashed from the room.

Fenris rose and brushed himself off with a tired groan. It seemed that anything less than sunshine and rainbows was going to make Invictus hard to deal with. He went to their room and found Anders still sound asleep, sprawled across the huge bed and his grey kitten on his chest as if she could protect him from the world.

“Shoo you tiny beast, he needs to wake up.” Fenris made to brush at the kitten but hissed when she grabbed his fingers and tried to gnaw on him. “I am not a snack you hairball.” the elf said tiredly.

“Anders...get up and retrieve your tiny terror. I doubt the lyrium in my hands can be good for her.” the elven fighter said as he shook the mage gently.

Anders stirred slightly, a faint frown creasing his brow as he made a half-moan of complaint, one hand clumsily brushing at Fenris’ hand as he turned his face further into the pillow that was already half-stifling him.

“Anders, get up. Food, food is downstairs. I daresay you find something for your beast before it gums my fingertips looking for nourishment.” Fenris nudged harder and dropped his voice lower, almost husky as he tried to rouse his mage. 

“Not hungry,” Anders slurred as his eyes drifted half open.

“Anders get your ass out of bed this instant or I will dump cold water on you and your cat.” Fenris said with a bit more snap to his tone.

Anders opened his eyes and gave Fenris a sidelong look. “That would have her running but wouldn’t do much for my mood,” he conceded carefully. “What’s got you so ready to reach for the cold water already?”

“I’ve had a rather unpleasant start, I’m hungry and I’d like your company. You are also difficult to get out of bed in the morning. I figured I’d skip the cajoling and get right to what will rouse you from bed easily.” Fenris said quietly. He leaned in to kiss Anders on the forehead and apologized for being so harsh first thing in the morning. 

“Ah,” said Anders, then sighed, pushing himself up to a sitting position with a yawn. “I feel as though I only just closed my eyes a minute or two ago,” he groaned. The grey kitten bounced up onto his lap then leapt onto his shoulder and batted at his cheek with a paw. “Yes, yes, Lady, I’m up! Sort of.” He glanced up at Fenris as he ran a hand through his dishevelled hair. “What happened this morning then?”

“Vic found me with Zevran, it was not a pleasant way to start my day. I’d rather...I’d rather just have breakfast and deal with things as they come. I’m tired, I’m hungry and my heart hurts.”  
Fenris said as he stood up and scooped the cat up in his hands. “There, you can gnaw on me for a bit longer while Anders gets himself together.”

Anders winced sympathetically as he threw aside the covers and swung his long legs to the floor. He stood up and stumbled slowly over to the wash stand to splash cold water on his face. “So you and Zevran have stopped trying to kill each other - well, it looked more like you trying to kill him, to be honest - and now... what? I was never exactly clear what happened whilst I was in Arden’s Kirkwall. It seemed from what you and Hawke have said that something started growing between you and Zevran and then it all went nastily wrong. When I came back through the mirror, it was into a room in the Hanged Man where Hawke was dealing with an incredibly drunk Zevran and he insisted we left him behind there. He’d drunk so much Antivan brandy he actually passed out, which with Zev I honestly didn’t think was possible. I knew him during the Blight and I swear he could drink the whole lot of us Wardens under the table, loot our drunken bodies and stroll away and the bastard wouldn’t even have a hangover in the morning.” He crossed to the wardrobe and helped himself to a pair of pants and a shirt that Fenris was fairly sure was his.

"You realize my clothes won't fit you." Fenris said in amusement. "Well the pants at least.”

Anders glanced at the pants in his hand, hummed to himself, then put them back and reached for a pair of Invictus' pants instead, though he kept the shirt in his hand as he turned away toward the bed again.

"We're happy to get you clothes love." Fenris offered.

Anders paused as he belted up the pants, tightening it - though Anders was the taller, Invictus Hawke was a well-muscled man and his clothes slightly loose on the slender blond apostate. "I... just need to borrow something whilst my things are in the wash," he said apologetically. "I haven't had a chance to get the rest of my stuff from the clinic. Not that there's a lot...." He blushed, unsure what to make of Fenris' statement.

"The offer is there whenever you wish to take us up on it. You know you are welcome here, to stay right?" The elf asked nervously.

Anders stared at the shirt in his hands. "It's... I'm just taking a little while to get used to it," admitted Anders. "It's been such a short period of time that... it still feels like... like I'm still dreaming sometimes, and I'll wake up again any minute. I've spent so long running that I don't really fully understand what it means to call a place 'home'."

"Believe me, I understand." Fenris admitted before he came over to help Anders dress. He didn't have to, he just felt like it. 

"Come, let us see what Vic has promised and what it will take to resolve his debt to Zevran."

Anders snatched his tatty coat up off the floor, draping it loosely over one shoulder as the kitten leapt up to ride atop the feathers. "Still not hungry," he murmured quietly as he followed the elf.

"You're going to eat, you're too light for a man your size." Fenris replied. "Warden appetites must be sated, all of them." He gave Anders an appraising stare then turned to head downstairs.

Anders merely gave a small, resigned sigh. "I ought to check on the clinic, maybe look in on Selby if we're going to be left any amount of time," he said as they headed downstairs.

"I do not relish informing Varric, or Isabela once she's been rescued, about Merrill," Fenris said softly after a few moments, then turned to see his lover had paused. "Come, I will help you with your loss."

Anders stood still for a moment, then slowly made his way down the stairs. "I can't believe she's gone," he said quietly. "Just... like that. She was always so cheerful and friendly. We argued about her blood magic, but that was only because I was afraid for her. Of all of us, I never dreamed she might be the one who wouldn't come back."

"It will be alright." Fenris said quietly.

"Will it?" asked Anders quietly. "Who will be next, Fenris? Varric? Will he be the next one who fails to return with us? Or Sebastian? Or Aveline? Maybe next it'll be my turn. Or yours. Any of us could walk out one morning with Hawke and never come back, Fenris. The only wonder is that we haven't lost someone thus far."

"There's not going to be a next time. The Eluvians are gone." Fenris knew he meant it in a broader sense than just the fight they'd survived but he didn't have the fortitude to entertain those thoughts.

"But there could be!" insisted Anders. "Look at what's happened the past few years - the enemies we've gone up against. Slavers, Tevinter magisters, tal-vashoth - the Qunari invasion. Look at what happened to Sebastian when I was gone for such a short time - you both told me how he nearly died, and I've seen Varric's scars. We've all been just one arrow away from death, Fenris, and one day my healing won't be enough and someone else will die!"

Fenris stopped and stared at the mage, unsure what he could do to soothe his lover.

Anders turned his face away, rubbing it against the soft fur of the kitten as she purred comfortingly. "It's not like it was before, when I still had Justice," said Anders quietly. "There never used to be this... emptiness inside. I felt sure - of myself, of everything. But now it seems there's so much more at stake. I couldn't save Merrill - either one. I couldn't even save Hal. And... and my other self... he should by rights be Tranquil, I felt his heart stop. Whatever saved him - brought him back - it wasn't me."

Fenris reached out and tugged the blond to him. "We're here for you. Please, don't take on this guilt. Hal was dying before we got there, both Merrills chose their path. Please don't do this love."

"I'm sorry," sighed Anders as he let Fenris hold him. "I just feel so- so useless and uncertain these days."

“You’re not useless, not one bit beloved.” Fenris said quietly. He kissed Anders on the cheek then took his hand so they could make it to the kitchen. 

They entered to a tense atmosphere. Zevran had backed up to one of the counters, hands braced against the marble top, retreating from the sharp, jagged ice that encroached around him, long icicles hemming him in in a semi-circle around him, one long shard pressing against the base of his throat as he stared at the ceiling, very carefully _not_ staring at Invictus who glared at him.

“Fuck,” breathed Anders quietly as he halted in the doorway.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Invictus needs to calm the fuck down, Fenris is tired of everyone's shit and Anders isn't doing too well either.

“Invictus Hawke, what in the Void are you doing?” Fenris asked in a low growl. 

“I will not be cuckolded in my own home, nor mocked for it at my owned damned kitchen table Fenris. It’s bad enough I walked in on you two cuddled together, but I don’t need it rubbed in my face either.” Vic’s voice cracked as he spoke, his eyes dark and menacing as he glared at the other elf.

“I was not-” Zevran broke off with a pained gasp as the icicle pushed harder, a trickle of blood welling up where the ice had broken the skin. His back was bowed backwards over the countertop and his head thrown back as far as he could reach; he had nowhere he could retreat to.

“What are you doing?” exclaimed Anders. “You’ll kill him - stop it, stop it at once!”

“Why should I listen to you?” Vic snapped, his gaze only on the Antivan.

“Because you claim you love us, that’s why. You’re not ...this isn’t helping Vic.” Fenris said as he approached slowly.

“Another step and I let this icicle go through his throat Fenris.” Invictus was in a full on rage, and very little was going to get him out of it.

“No,” said Anders firmly as he reached out with his own magic, swiftly weaving a counterspell. The temperature in the kitchen began to rise as steam hissed off the ice. “I’m not going to let you do this.”

Invictus snarled in anger at Anders then stepped back with a dark look for all of them. “Find out what we must do, we’ll do it then you will never darken our doorway again assassin.” he said.

“Invictus, don’t...just don’t. I thought you wanted to work things out, and this is not how to work things out between all of us. Did we not talk of your temper? Controlling it?” Fenris said as he stood before his lover. “Would you have us all fear your rage?”

Anders dispelled the last of the ice and hurried over to Zevran, who was straightening up with one hand clutching at his throat, coughing. Blood seeped out between his fingers but lessened then halted as Anders pressed a hand over the elf’s hand and healed the wound caused by the ice. The mage glanced back over his shoulder at Invictus, apprehension in his eyes.

“Nor I would not have you all fear me, you know that. But I will not be goaded with...with.” Vic’s voice broke and he turned from them. “I will return, I need a few minutes to gather my wits. I can’t do that with you all staring at me.”

Anders glanced to Fenris, then back at Invictus, then turned away, brushing Zevran’s hand aside so he could check the elf’s throat. The Antivan elf kept his eyes on the floor.

“As you wish love.” Fenris said softly then backed away to let him leave.

Vic left without another word and headed to the study.

“I did not mock him, beloved, I swear it,” said Zevran then broke off, coughing.

“Don’t try to talk yet,” murmured Anders as he gently checked the elf over for any other wounds, but the Antivan waved him off.

“I am fine, you have healed the worst, my friend,” replied Zevran, his voice a little hoarse.

“What on earth did you say to him?” asked Anders as he stepped back. Zevran sighed and shrugged.

“I did not mock him. I tried to talk to him, but he did not want to listen; he heard only what he chose to hear. He is firmly convinced I came here to kill him and to supplant him in your affections, Fenris, and in his eyes there is nothing innocent about two men sharing a bed. He had already conjured up his own ideas of what depravities I must have visited upon you and would not hear the mundane truth.”

“Do you blame him for thinking the worst? Attacking you aside, what else could he assume? Just think about it for a moment would you?” Fenris asked as he busied himself with making tea for them. 

“Anders, can you get the porridge off the fire before it burns?” he said while he measured tea leaves out.

“If my life is to be forfeit, I would prefer it be for something I have actually done, yes?” replied Zevran as Anders crossed over to the fireplace to retrieve the porridge.

“You did pleasure me, just not to the extent he assumed.” Fenris muttered angrily.

Anders straightened up with the steaming pot of porridge, swearing under his breath as he transferred the hot iron pot to a cast-iron trivet on a counter before dropping the cloth into the sink, shaking his hand and frowning. 

Zevran took a seat at the table and shrugged. “I am, perhaps, a victim of my own reputation,” he said.

“Regardless, Vic should not jump to such ridiculous conclusions. I was tired, I slept there because I fucking wanted to.” Fenris clenched his fist around the mug in his hand until the urge to pitch it at the wall passed. “I will not give in to my anger, I will not give in to my anger.” he repeated slowly, until he could let go of the mug and pour tea for them.

Orana had emerged from the pantry with a bowl of eggs; she glanced at Anders then tutted as she set the bowl down before pushing him away from the porridge over towards the sink, taking his hand in hers and tutting again before holding his hand under the faucet and pumping cold water over it. “Honestly, Master Anders, you should have left it to me,” she scolded.

Anders glanced from Orana over to Zevran with a look of confusion. “Orana... there was an altercation between Zevran and Master Hawke a short time ago. Did you....”

Orana turned pale. “Begging your pardon, Master Anders, but... well, I learned a long time ago that when a magister is angry, it’s best not to be in the firing line. I keep out of the way when Master Hawke is in one of his moods.”

“But you’re not afraid of me?” said Anders quietly.

“Bless you ser, why would I be? I’ve never seen you lash out in anger at anyone - you use your magic to heal and to protect others.” She leaned in and in a conspiratorial whisper she added, “You wouldn’t last five minutes in Minrathous, messere, but then we aren’t in Minrathous, are we? I could wish more masters were like you, ser.” Then she pulled back with an expression of dismay. “I’m sorry, Master Anders, I’m speaking out of turn and I shouldn’t have said anything at all, forgive me!”

Fenris looked to her and tried to smile. “You’re not in Tevinter, do not address us as master Orana, please.”

“I’m sorry Mas- I mean Messere Fenris,” stammered Orana, looking flustered. Anders glanced to Fenris.

“It’s not right that his own servants are terrified of him and have learned to avoid him when he’s in a mood,” he said quietly. “This is... this is all wrong, Fenris. Hawke has to stop behaving like this. He can’t keep taking his anger out on everyone around him. The way he looked at me earlier when I countered his spell - Fenris, I can’t tiptoe on eggshells round him wondering when he’s going to explode again. I’d sooner take my chances down in Darktown than go back to living like that.”

Vic backed away from the door and hugn his head. Was his temper so bad that even sweet Orana was scared of him? He flattened himself against the wall, unsure if he wanted to hear the rest of the conversation about him.

“We can talk to him about it once this business of paying his due is concluded. But, you are right about his temper. It has become even more volatile lately.” Fenris conceded as he was nudged towards his seat by the elven servant.

Anders briefly glanced at his wet hand and there was a small flash of blue energy as he healed the superficial burns on his hand from the hot pot and then made his way over to the table, dropping into a chair next to Fenris. “He... worries me,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to feel I have to be on guard against his magic any time he gets angry. I could counter his ice spell because I’m just as strong as he is when it comes to fire and ice, but he’s stronger in other areas of magic that I have little or no skill in. Though... I suppose at need you could drain off his magic, couldn’t you?” Anders suddenly realised. 

“I could but at a cost to both of us Anders. I’d rather not have to resort to subduing my lover.” Fenris replied tiredly. “Where is he anyway, I want to get this conversation over with.” the elf muttered even as Orana set plates before all of them, Anders plate notably fuller than the elves dishes.

Anders looked at his plate almost with dismay but set to eating it. 

“Hawke is lurking just outside the door,” said Zevran very quietly in Tevene. “I think he is perhaps afraid to face you both after his little outburst. It must be quite dispiriting to hear that even your own servants are afraid of you, no? And Anders also.”

Anders lifted his head. “I didn’t say-” he began. Zevran lifted a hand.

“You did not need to, my friend,” replied the elf. “You do not wish to walk on eggshells round him. Why would one be walking on eggshells unless one has learned to fear the consequences of a broken shell, hmm?”

“Oh for fucks sake…” Fenris said before he went to the door and opened it as if he merely wanted to check for his lover. 

Invictus wouldn’t look at him, he just came in and sat at the table, quiet and subdued as he awaited someone to speak about what Zevran had come for.

Anders stiffened slightly as Invictus sat, then bent over his plate, his eyes on his food as he ate silently and without appetite. As Orana slid a plate in front of Invictus, Zevran continued to tuck into his own food with no sign of concern, giving every impression of enjoying his meal fully without a care as though he were at some fancy inn in Nevarra and not a small kitchen where one of the men present had tried to kill him not half an hour before. He grinned and winked at Orana as she passed and murmured a comment to here in Tevene that had the servant blushing then sliding an extra helping onto his plate before she took away the empty teapot to brew more tea.

“Can you no longer speak Invictus? I thought you were eager to start the business that brought Zevran back here.” Fenris said tiredly. He was sick of fighting, he was sick of the emotional ups and downs and he really just wanted to talk things out without either one of them retreating to a corner.

“I figured he could start, since it’s the favor he’s calling in.” Vic said softly. Every move was slow, measured so he wouldn’t seem a threat to anyone as they sat there.

Zevran wiped his mouth with a napkin and took a swallow of his tea before he pushed his chair back a little from the table.

“Isabela has been held captive by the Qunari for two years now,” he began without preamble. “They have endeavoured to break her spirit and enslave her to the Qun. I have been searching for her and at last I have received word that she was taken with a group of other slaves and prisoners to a new location where the Qunari are building a settlement on Seheron. I cannot free her alone.” He spread his hands. 

“And it seems I have enemies who would see me dead - whether they seek to prevent me freeing Isabela or seek my death for other reasons, I do not know. They have made four attempts upon my life in the past month; this most recent attempt was their most successful to date.”

“Seheron?” Fenris asked in a rush. “You...cannot expect me to return there. I cannot.” the elf said in a near panic. “I...can’t, I can’t.” 

Zevran turned to him, one hand reaching instinctively towards the other elf’s hand. “ _Carissimi_ , what is wrong? What happened to you upon Seheron?”

Anders laid a hand over Fenris’ other hand reassuringly. “This... this is something to do with your past? Did Danarius take you there?”

Fenris jerked his hands free and jumped up to pace frantically. “I ...escaped, I can’t go back, they’ll catch me. They’ll chain me, I can’t go back there.” the elf stopped before Invictus. “I can’t...please Vic, don’t make me do this. You know what will happen if I return.” Fenris said brokenly.

He pulled the elf to his arms and comforted him. “I know love, I know. I’m sorry.” he looked to Anders and Zevran sadly. “You can’t ask him to go back there.”

“I had no idea,” breathed Zevran as he rose to his feet. “ _Carissimi_ , please forgive me - I did not know. I swear to you upon my life that no chains will ever touch you.”

“No, wait,” said Anders as he stared at Fenris then at Zevran. “You can’t just drop that on him like that. You could no more expect Fenris to go back to where they’re hunting him than - than I could walk back into the Tower in Ferelden. It would be the same thing.”

“Seheron is a large isle, covered with jungles,” said Zevran quietly. “One can evade pursuit for a long time there, even alone - and Fenris would not be alone. Slaves escape into the jungle all the time - Imperial and Qunari, both, though fewer from the Qun it is true. I helped two such former slaves off Seheron - it was they who told me of this new Qunari settlement on the south-east coast of the isle. They are here in Kirkwall now, in the Alienage. It was they who told me of a distinctive female Qunari slave - human, darkskinned, black hair, and they led me close enough to see for myself.” He stared at Fenris. “I would not ask this if I were not utterly desperate, _carissimi_ , I swear. If you cannot go, then I will understand - but I must beg Hawke’s aid and hold him to his boon. Please. He is Isabela’s only chance.”

“Tell them, I can’t speak of it Hawke.” came Fenris’ muffled words to his lover.

“No, it is not my story to tell. Your distress should be enough to show you cannot do this. I will not hold it against you. I would no more go there, than turn myself in to the Gallows.” Vic said softly.

“You ...cannot go without me.” was the elf’s retort.

Anders rose to his feet and took a hesitant step towards Fenris but halted. “I don’t know what happened to you there, but you look the way I imagine I would if a troop of templars burst through that door,” he remarked quietly. “Now? Now I’m scared.”

“Please, just discuss this business without me. I need some air, I’ll be at the Hanged Man when you are done.” Fenris pulled himself away and wiped at his face tiredly. “I’m sorry but I cannot do this for you.”

“I’ll come with you,” said Anders hastily. “Whatever it is, Hawke can fill me in later if - if you want me to know, that is,” he added. He glanced at Invictus. “Assuming I can trust you not to try and kill Zevran again.” He glanced at the elf, wary of leaving him to Invictus’ tender mercies and yet not wanting his lover to leave alone in that state.

“That wasn’t called for.” Vic said as he glanced at the other elf. “Just go with Fenris, we’ll be fine. I don’t relish getting my heart handed to me literally if I lose my temper again.” Vic turned to face Zevran, his expression closed off and his gaze hard.

“Not call-” began Anders with some heat, then he flung his hands up. “Whatever. I don’t care.” He grabbed his tatty coat and pulled it on, scooping the kitten off the table and tucking her into a pocket as he looked to Fenris. “I’m ready love,” he said quietly. “Let’s get you into the fresh air, you’ve gone almost as pale as me and that’s frankly not a good look on you.”

“Let me get my sword, I’ll meet you in the foyer.” Fenris replied before he went up the stairs to retrieve his sword and some sovereigns. He was going to get Anders some new clothes, no matter how much the mage protested.

Anders was waiting for him near the door, darting occasionally glances back towards the kitchen.

Fenris headed off and headed for the market at a fast clip. “Come, we’re getting you new clothes. No arguments either.” 

Anders stumbled after him, looking a little bewildered. “New clothes? But....”

“No but, you need new clothes. I need a reason to be out of the house for a while and maybe, just maybe by the time someone looks for us at the Hanged Man, or we return on our own I won’t feel homicidal.” Fenris said as he veered off towards the clothing shop that he and Vic frequented.

Anders was actually forced to trot to keep up despite his longer legs. “But... “ He reached up to touch a feathered pauldron a little defensively. “I...I like my coat. Even if it _is_ tatty. I don’t really....” He tailed off as he followed Fenris into the shop and stared around, then hurriedly began backing out again. “No, this is all much too expensive, I couldn’t possibly afford anything in here - Fenris, I stick out like a sore thumb in here!”

“I’m paying, I won’t hear another word about it. Let me do one nice damned thing today.” Fenris said before he noticed the shop keeper and turned on the charm for him. 

“Greetings messere FonDuLac. My friend here is looking for some new clothes, you can charge it to my account. He insists on something...feathery.” 

Anders made a faint sound of dismay then froze as the shopkeeper advanced towards him, pulling out a tape measure. “Fenris, I really don’t think -” began the blond apostate, then yelped in alarm as the shopkeeper yanked his arm out straight and began measuring him.

“I trust him to dress me, as well as the Champion. You’re in good hands Anders, just relax.” Fenris gave him a smile and settled into one of the overstuffed chairs nearby so he could watch how this played out.

“Hmm, he certainly has the height to pull off feathers, though these are far too drab,” sniffed the tailor dismissively as he flicked Anders’ pauldrons with a distasteful look.

“I don’t want to look like a peacock!” protested Anders. The tailor tugged at his coat and Anders hastily extracted Lady from his pocket before the coat was stripped off completely. Anders clutched the grey kitten to him, looking alarmed as the tailor waved over his assistant who started poking and prodding the blond mage, measuring him.

“What are you doing with my coat?” he squeaked, but the tailor ignored him as he disappeared behind some clothing rails. He turned and cast a pleading look in Fenris’ direction.

“You’ll look rather fetching in new attire. Remember what happened with the leather vest.” Fenris motioned for him to give over the kitten so he could be taken care of by the rather excited shop keeper. 

Anders winced slightly as he handed over Lady reluctantly. “Considering what happened last time I wore it....”

“Ah, Messere would like leather?” said the shop keeper, pausing as he held up a length of dark green velvet against Anders. “Hmm, does Messere favour green? Not too bright?”

“Blue would suit him, or a dark green, forest green perhaps. With raven feathers on the capelet, if you can procure them.” Fenris offered helpfully as he stroked the kitten and felt her purring in his hands. 

“Hmm, raven feathers... crow feathers we can acquire with no problem, but raven feathers would be more problematic. But if Messere is set on raven feathers...?”

“Ask him, my preference does not matter in this.” Fenris said with a smile. 

“C-crow feathers would be fine, I wouldn’t want to put you to too much trouble,” said Anders hastily. He had now been stripped down to just his pants and boots as the shop keeper’s assistant pulled out a pile of fine linen shirts and began holding them up for his approval; the blond apostate stared at them, nonplussed, then hesitantly pointed at one which was handed to him to try on.

“Do you wish assistance Anders?” Fenris said when he saw the glazed look come over his other lover. “Messere, this might be a bit fast for him, can you make fewer recommendations?” 

“Certainly, Messere,” replied the assistant. Noting the style of shirt Anders had picked, he selected two others of a similar cut.

Anders seemed bewildered by the whole process, and it suddenly occurred to Fenris that perhaps Anders had never experienced anything like this before. In the Tower, his clothing had likely been selected for him, and in the Grey Wardens he would have worn uniform. Whilst on the run, doubtlessly he would have settled for whatever clothing he could find that actually fit - which for a man as tall as the blond apostate had likely not been easy. No wonder he had been so reluctant to part with what little clothing he had.

“Green looks good on you, it contrasts the dark gold of your hair and complements your eyes.” Fenris said with a soft grin. “If you can fit in some leather pants as well Messere, I would appreciate it.” 

When they eventually left the shop, Anders had been outfitted with three new shirts, two pairs of pants - one of which were leather - and the shop keeper had taken all Anders’ measurements and promised to deliver the new coat by week’s end. He had had a long dark brocade coat that actually fit Anders, but Anders had refused it as being too ostentatious and likely to attract attention. Fenris was amused that the blond apostate considered brocade too ostentatious but chose to wear feathers.

“That was... very strange,” said Anders as they left the shop.

“But you will have new clothes and that coat will look fetching on you.” Fenris said as he handed the kitten back to Anders. The mage cuddled the kitten, his composure a little rattled by the unfamiliar experience. He followed Fenris, his attention more on the kitten than where they were going.

“Come on, let’s go to the Hanged Man and see how badly Varric will cheat up at cards.” Fenris said as he steered Anders by the elbow back to their usual haunt.

“You’ll win as usual even if he does,” remarked Anders distractedly. “You always do.”

“I learned how to cheat from the other slaves before I escaped.” Fenris said as they entered the place and headed up towards Varric’s rooms.

Anders stumbled a little in surprise. "Wait... do you mean I've been the only one not cheating all this time?" he cried, and then groaned. "No wonder I always lose."

“Learn to cheat,” Fenris turned and looked at him for a moment then shrugged. “Or not, you couldn’t fool a blind nug when you try to bluff.”

Anders followed him more slowly. “So, you all... wait.” He blinked. “Even Merrill cheated?”

“I have no idea, unless she’d been taught by Isabela at some point. Come on, I’m starved and you are walking like someone stunned you.” Fenris said before he knocked on Varric’s door.

Anders said nothing. It had never occurred to him that Fenris had cheated. The warrior seemed... too upfront and honest. Oh, sure, he could and did play things pretty close to his chest and Anders could never be entirely sure what was going on behind the smooth mask Fenris presented to the world, but it had never occurred to him that Fenris had actually _cheated_ , even if only in a trivial game of cards. Hawke and Varric he expected it from, but Fenris? It had shaken up his worldview a little to learn Fenris had been shamelessly cheating every time he’d lost coin to the elf. 

“Not... not Aveline too?” he said in a small voice as he followed Fenris into Varric’s suite.

“Ask her when you next see her. It’s not as if she tolerated Hawke’s company enough for me to get to know her well.” the elf replied before he turned to Varric.

“May we infringe on your time for a while? After all that’s happened, I realized I have not been the best friend I could be to the rest of our companions. Also, we just needed to get out of the house.” Fenris admitted.

“You’re always welcome here anytime Broody, you know that,” smiled Varric as he set aside the ledger he’d been going over. He glanced at Anders. “What did you do to Blondie? He looks like the floor just dropped away from him.”

“You all cheat at cards,” said Anders. 

“Is that all?” laughed Varric. “Of course we cheat, Blondie; did you never wonder just why it was you always lose?”

“Apparently the revelation is a bit much for him.” Fenris laughed as he took his seat. “Thank you for that Varric, I worry at times that I’ve pushed people away while so far under Vic’s shadow.” Fenris said as he took the glass of wine offered to him with a smile. 

Anders dropped into a chair, shaking his head as he pulled the kitten out from beneath his coat and set her on the table in front of him. “Lady, we are in a den of thieves and traitors - be on your guard, they’ll steal your whiskers given half a chance,” he said in a mock solemn tone, shaking his head.

“I’ve no use for cat whiskers.” Fenris said as he caught the attention of a serving girl to order food and ale for his lover. “If this has rattled you so, I dare not tell you anything of my past in case it sends you into shock.” 

“If you volunteered anything of your past, it might send _me_ into shock Broody.” Varric muttered while he shuffled a deck for Wicked Grace.

Anders leaned closer to the grey kitten and indicated Fenris with a forefinger. “Watch out, that one steals hearts,” he said in a stage whisper before straightening and eyeing the deck of cards distrustfully then turned his attention to Fenris. “Your past is a whole different matter, love,” he said quietly. “What you choose to share of it is up to you. Given your reaction to the mention of Seheron, I’m guessing nothing good happened there. That would be enough for me alone. You wouldn’t expect a blow-by-blow account of everything that ever happened in the Tower to understand why I’d sooner die than set foot back in a Circle again.”

“There are things I can speak of without that reaction, but the very idea of crossing the border into Tevinter is my worst nightmare.” Fenris said solemnly as he waved his fingers at Lady and she barreled into his open palm with a demanding mew. “Imperious little beast, just like the other cats I’ve known.” he said fondly as he petted her.

“Who’s going into Tevinter?” asked Varric as he began dealing the cards. “Do I smell a story?”

“Let Anders tell you, I...it’s difficult for me to discuss.” Fenris said with a glance at Anders then Varric before he suddenly found Lady very interesting.

Anders laced his fingers together and rested his hands on the table top with a small sigh, ignoring the cards before him. “Zevran’s tracked Isabela down to a new Qunari settlement on Seheron,” he said without preamble. “Hawke owes him a favour.”

“So Zevran’s come calling his favours in and wants Hawke to help him bust Rivaini out,” guessed Varric. “And something happened on Seheron that means Broody here doesn’t want to go anywhere near the place.”

“That’s pretty much the shape of it,” nodded Anders.

“And what about you, Blondie?”

“What about me?” said Anders, startled.

“Are you staying here with Broody or going with the crow and Hawke?” pressed Varric.

“I...” began Anders, glancing to Fenris. “I...I don’t know what’s going to happen,” he admitted. “I don’t-”

“You don’t want to leave Broody on his own and abandon him to run off after Hawke... but you feel you ought to?” suggested Varric.

“If something happened to them... Varric, you still bear the scars from when you went with Hawke and I wasn’t around to heal,” pointed out Anders. The dwarf fingered his ear self-consciously.

“Go, Vic can’t heal for shit and I don’t need a minder.” Fenris rumbled as he looked over his cards and tried to keep the kitten from gnawing on the corner of one.

Anders cast him a worried look. Varric followed his glance and nodded slowly. 

“So... an assassin and another mage for back-up. Hawke’s going to need more help than that if he’s going to try and bust Rivaini out of a Qunari settlement, I’m thinking. What muscle is Hawke going to bring, if he hasn’t got Broody’s big chopper as back-up to even the numbers?” the dwarf asked as he picked up his own hand.

“I don’t know,” said Anders unhappily.

“Hmm. There’s Choir Boy I guess, he’s pretty handy with that bow of his, though I wouldn’t want to see him go toe-to-toe with any of those big Qunari brutes if the brown stuff starts flying,” remarked Varric in a conversational tone.

“The last thing I need is Sebastian breathing down my neck,” muttered Anders as he picked up his hand. he tried to school his face into blankness but there was a brief flicker of his amber eyes that betrayed his disappointment with his hand.

Fenris scowled as he looked over his cards then sighed. “Varric, you wield guilt like the Grand Cleric. Don’t pretend you didn’t mean to remind me of the fact that unless Aveline goes, there are no other warriors in our group.” the elf sat his cards down and pulled Lady to his chest, his fingers trailed over her soft fur in the same pattern as he considered what could happen if he didn’t go with them.

“Anders...will you make that potion again? The...one that numbs emotions?” the elven fighter finally asked.

“Of course, love,” said Anders quietly. “Whatever you need.”

Varric wisely kept quiet, flipping a card face-down onto the table from his hand and drawing another.

“You two play, I’m not in the mood anymore.” the elf said as he kept Lady in his grasp, his gaze on her and how happy she seemed to be getting attention. He didn’t need Varric to go further to fuel his imagination of what would happen if they got to Anders or Hawke. Qunari sewed their mages mouths shut, blinded them, bound them and if they even spoke, they were slaughtered in case demons had ridden upon their words. Fenris shuddered as he thought of what could happen if he didn’t go.

Anders dropped his hand onto the table with a sigh. “Fold,” he muttered. Varric chuckled as he raked the small pile of coin over towards himself.

“You need to learn to stop being so honest, Blondie,” the dwarf smiled. Anders rolled his eyes and grimaced. They were interrupted as the serving girl returned with a bowl of stew, a hunk of bread and a tankard of ale for the blond apostate.

Anders had been trying not to think too much on just what the Qunari did to their mages himself, though his main concern was for Hawke or Zevran being on the receiving end of a blow from a Qunari axe or sword before he could protect them. With a warrior of Fenris’ calibre their chances of surviving the rescue attempt were fairly good; without him, very poor indeed.

Fenris ate quietly, and slowly as he tried to keep Lady out of his bowl. He couldn’t stop the images that flashed through his mind. Anders, Hawke bound as Saarebas and taken from them. He put the kitten down and dashed from the room, his stomach heaved as he entered the privy and sent his last couple of meals on a return trip.

There was a tentative knock at the privy door. “Fenris? Love?” Anders’ voice sounded worried.

Fenris had washed his face and was trying to not look as disgusting as he felt when he heard the knock. He opened it and looked out to the rest of the bar. “The food didn’t agree with me,” he evaded before he tried to get past Anders.

The mage’s hand upon his arm was light and gentle, but it may as well have been stone for all the elf could push past it. “Love, what’s wrong?” he said softly.

“Can we discuss it upstairs and not in the privy?” Fenris said softly, his expression tense as he waited for Anders to move. Thankfully, Anders stepped aside without a word.

Fenris went upstairs and sat down with a thump, and he did not protest the glass of cold water put in front of him. He waited until Anders had shut the door before he spoke. “I...I couldn’t get the thought of you and Hawke bound by the Qunari out of my head. What could happen if I didn’t go, and it...it got to me. Apologies if I alarmed you.” he said quietly before he took the water and finished it in two long gulps.

Anders shuddered, his fingers straying unconsciously to his lips. “Maybe... there are worse things than the Circle,” he murmured.”

“Yes, there are.” Fenris said solemnly. He looked to Varric and scowled briefly before he let Lady clamber back to his hands and rub her face against his. “I’ll be alright little beast.” he whispered to her.

“So you’ll be going with them,” Varric said carefully, not looking up from the deck of cards as he shuffled it again.

“It seems I must, or let the things of nightmares come to pass.” Fenris said tightly. He rose and held on to the kitten as she made herself comfortable on his shoulder. “Come we should return home, don’t forget your parcels.” 

Anders gathered up the packages from the clothing shop. “Thanks for, er....” he stared at Varric as his voice trailed off. 

“Go on, Blondie, let me know when you’re all leaving and I’ll have someone keep an eye on your clinic whilst you’re gone.” Varric waved them off.

Fenris said nothing as he led them back to the estate, a short plea to whatever might be listening that Vic and Zevran weren’t at blows again. 

What they actually found was several dead bodies strewn around the foyer, Zevran sitting in the middle of the floor unconcernedly sharpening a knife whilst Invictus swore at him to stay still whilst he attempted to heal a nasty cut down his arm.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can't leave Invictus and Zevran alone for five minutes without unwanted company dropping by, and Anders gets a hint of why Fenris isn't too keen on going back to Seheron.

“What the hell happened here?” Fenris exclaimed as he went over to them. “Details, now.” he’d shifted into a combat stance just in case there were any lingering enemies.

“Ah, you have missed all the fun, _carissimi_ ,” smiled Zevran as Anders knelt down to check the cut on his arm, to Invictus’ relief. “It was quite the refreshing little fight, was it not, Hawke? It seems some of those fools who keep waylaying me thought they would try again. They omitted the poison this time, thankfully.”

Anders set to work healing his arm. “Isn’t that one of Orana’s carving knives?” he muttered.

“Just so; Hawke still has not told me where he has hidden my own weapons,” replied Zevran.

Hawke grunted and nodded towards the wardrobe on the other side of the room. “In there, really didn’t have time to tell you in the middle of the fight.” he muttered. 

“Venhedis, even our own home isn’t safe!” Fenris snapped as he paced around to inspect the bodies and scorch marks on the walls. 

Anders sat back, the healing done. “Are you ok, Hawke?” he asked. Zevran flipped the knife in his hand.

“Not a bad knife; not too good for throwing but the balance is good for hand-to-hand work,” the Antivan remarked. “It will be good to have my own blades back however. I have felt almost naked without a knife in my hand.”

Fenris snarled as he took stock of all the damage in the room. “If there are any of these fools left I will have their heads.” he swore.

“Yeah I’m ok.” Invictus said tiredly. “Getting really sick of being a target though.”

“Alas, I am used to it,” said Zevran with a shrug as he got to his feet then courteously assisted Anders to rise.

He glared at Zevran as he was helped up by Fenris. “Well I’m not.” he muttered as he threw up his hands and started grumbling about clean up and bodies in the harbor _again_.

Anders stared around the mess, then quietly went and picked up his packages that he’d dropped when he’d first entered before scooping Lady up onto his shoulder. He stared at a nearby body then toed it over distastefully. The dead man’s face was unknown to him, but something around the corpse’s neck made him pause. He crouched down and reached for the amulet, then tugged it free, turned it over in his hand curiously. It had sharp edges and he exclaimed quietly as it caught on his thumb.

“Hawke, what do you make of this? Careful, it’s got sharp points,” he added as he held it out.

“Not sure, could be Tevinter in origin or maybe it’s something he’d know about.” Hawke said dismissively as he gestured towards Zevran.

The Antivan elf stepped between sprawled bodies and carefully took the amulet from Anders, turning it over in his hands warily. “Ah, it is as I thought,” he said with a grave look. “These men have been employed by someone who would very much like to see me dead. Not Crows, but employed by one high in their esteem I fear.”

“Who’s worse than the Crows?” Fenris asked as he looked over one of bodies.

“I said not worse, but respected by them,” replied Zevran. “The Crows are not the only assassins in Thedas, merely perhaps the widest feared. There are others less well-known and thus more to be feared perhaps.” He stared at the amulet. “It seems my enemy has sufficient coin to pay for interesting trinkets for his servants. This charm came from Orlais; it is Tranquil work.”

“What does the charm do?” Vic asked.

“Ah, now, that I do not know,” replied Zevran. “That is what makes it interesting!” He flashed Invictus an infectious grin.

“I’m going to go have a bath and get changed,” said Anders quietly, picking his way between bodies as he headed towards the stairs.

“I’m going to join you, then drink myself into a hole.” Fenris muttered as he gave Vic an appraising stare for a moment before he turned towards the stairs.

“Love?” Invictus asked softly, his voice hushed. 

Anders paused and glanced back at them both, one foot on the bottom stairtread before he headed up the stairs, not willing to put himself between them both yet again right now. He headed up to the bedroom, dropping his packages on the bed as he grabbed a towel before heading into the bathroom. He set the tub filling as he stripped, sucking thoughtfully on his thumb where the amulet had pricked it.

“Yes Vic?” Fenris said tiredly.

“I… I don’t, I don’t want things to be like this please. Not with me about to go to what could be my end. When you finish your bath can we please talk, just us?” Vic pleaded.

Fenris stood on the stairs and considered his lover for a long time, then nodded in agreement. “Yes, I’ll come find you and we can speak in the study if you don’t mind.” 

“Thank you love.” Invictus said softly, a faint smile on his lips as he watched Fenris jog up the stairs to join their other lover in the bath. He turned to face Zevran and his expression darkened. “I’ll send a note to Varric to help with cleaning up your mess.” 

Zevran bowed politely before picking his way carefully over to the cupboard to retrieve his weapons and equipment.

Fenris found Anders in the process of stepping into the tub. Not for the first time, Fenris was struck by how slender and pale the mage was, though naked like this he could see that Anders had a certain grace in the way he carried himself that was always somehow hidden by the layers he always wore. He was glad Anders seemed to have lost most of his self-consciousness over his scars.

Anders sank down into the hot steaming tub with a low sigh.

“Alright if I join you?” Fenris asked in the middle of stripping off his tunic. He’d just invited himself along but hadnt’ thought that perhaps Anders might want to bathe alone.

“Of course,” said Anders, shifting over a little in the water to leave space as he lay back, his head resting on the rim of the tub as he let himself float in the water. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been anywhere that had tubs big enough for me to actually stretch out in other than at the Keep when I was with the Wardens. I could almost fall asleep in this thing.”

“I don’t know how to save you if you fall asleep and inhale half the bathwater.” Fenris said as he rinsed off and slipped into the tub and groaned at how good the hot water felt.

“Again,” Anders added, opening one eye with a small smile. “Don’t worry, I’m not about to drown myself again. Not that I actually meant to the first time,” he added hastily. “I did say almost.”

“Hmm, either way...I cannot save everyone much as I would wish to. I just hope to never walk in and see Vic wielding his magic against someone like that again.” the elf murmured almost to himself.

“And nor can I,” sighed Anders. He sat up in the water and ran his wet hands over his face, his expression sombre. “And that.... that was disturbing to me too. I’m just glad it was ice he was using; if he’d reached for fire Zevran would likely have been dead before I could stop him.” He shuddered. 

“I tire of fearing mages for what they may do when enraged.” Fenris admitted before he dunked his head under the water.

Anders glanced at the trail of bubbles that drifted to the surface, the elf’s white hair waving like silk beneath the water. As Fenris emerged once more, Anders said quietly, “I hope I never give you reason to fear me, love.”

“You haven’t, I owe you much for keeping me sane when I retreated to that _place_.” Fenris said with a guilty look at the blond. “I hope I never again give you reason to worry I will turn on you. I never properly thanked you for helping me come back to myself.”

“I’m far more worried of Invictus doing that,” confessed Anders. “Frankly, his behaviour since we got back has scared me. each time I stand against him I find myself wondering if this is it - the moment when he decides I’m more trouble than I’m worth and I find myself being dragged off to the Gallows.”

It was Anders’ turn to duck under the water, dropping down to sit on the bottom of the tub, curling in on himself a little under the water.

“If he tries that he’ll find himself making sure he knows what it feels like for my hand to grasp his still beating heart. We’ve opened ourselves to you and if he suddenly turns, I will not allow him to have you.” Fenris sounded tired, even to himself as he spoke. He turned his attention to finishing his bath, unsure of how Anders had taken his words.

Anders sat up in the water, his face hidden by his sodden hair. “That’s more reassuring than you could know,” he said quietly. “No-one’s ever stood between the gallows and me like that before - save once, and that was to conscript me.”

Fenris shrugged and continued to bathe. “I see now how dangerous Invictus can be when enraged. I liked it to a degree...before but now it simply terrifies me.” He admitted slowly as he suddenly found interest in a bruise on his thigh that he’d forgotten about.

Anders turned his head slightly, peering at Fenris between the wet strands of his dark blond hair, darkened by the water. “If you’d left... I’d have come with you. If you wanted me to, that is,” he added.

“I’d have asked you along, I don’t think Vic would want to choose between either of us and in his anger may well have blamed you for my decision. Never mind the fact he sent me on a very dangerous path with his show of temper.” Fenris prodded the bruise and hissed. “How did I do this I wonder?”

“Let me have a look,” said Anders, shifting closer. “Hmm, must have whacked it on something - it’s fairly recent. Then again, we’re all involved in scraps on a near-daily basis thanks to Hawke’s little jaunts and what have you. Let me heal that up for you.” He reached over beneath the water, soothing away the bruise with a ghosting whisper of magic that felt like soft silk drawn over Fenris’ brands.

As he pulled back, he smiled gently at Fenris. “Better?”

“Yes, thank you.” Fenris said quietly before he leaned over to kiss Anders. “I should go get this over with...it may not be pleasant, but it is needed.” the elf leaned his head against Anders’ chest and remained still, despite his words. 

Anders’ arms reached up to embrace him automatically, the mage resting his chin atop the elf’s damp wet locks, softly humming to himself. The vibration from his chest and throat against Fenris’ skin was pleasant.

“I don’t want to go. I’m...worried about what Invictus will say.” Fenris said quietly, glad his face was already wet so he could pretend the tears that trickled down his face were just more bathwater.

“Would you like me to come with you? Maybe he’ll rein himself in a little with someone else present,” suggested Anders.

“No, I asked it to be just us. If he gets out of hand I’ll call for you. We’ll be in the study, so not far at all.” said the elf as he reluctantly pulled away and stood so he could dry off.

Anders nodded as he reached down to let the water out of the tub, once more thankful for the wonders of dwarven plumbing, before stepping out and reaching for his own towel. “I’ll be in our room reading,” he said as he gathered up his dirty things.

“Alright, thank you.” Fenris said quietly as he dressed then went back down to seek out Invictus.

Anders made his way back into the bedroom where he dressed himself in one of the new shirts, the leather trousers and then, on a whim, the Dalish leather vest before selecting a slim volume on Force magic from Invictus’ library and curling up in a chair by the window to await the outcome of their talk.

Fenris found Invictus in the kitchen with a cup of tea and some honey-oat cakes Orana had left out. “Still up for our talk?” he asked.

Vic looked up and nodded solemnly as he rose to bring the tea and cakes with him. “Study still alright?” he asked.

“That will be acceptable,” nodded Fenris. “Anders is reading in our room.” He glanced around. “Where is Zevran?”

“I don’t know, nor do I particularly care.” Hawke said as he headed for the study. 

Fenris bit back a sharp retort and sighed. “I merely wished to know if we were likely to remain undisturbed during our discussion, Vic. I did not ask to needle you.”

“I know, I just can’t find it in me to hold my tongue regarding your assassin.” Vic replied as he let the door open for both of them. He sat in a chair and looked to his lover with hope that things would work out. “I’m sorry, for so many things Fenris. What can I do to make it right?”

Fenris strode stiffly to the desk and perched on the edge, regarding Invictus with a serious expression from beneath his damp hair. “I do not know,” he admitted. “I do not have easy answers, Invictus. If it were so easily fixed....” he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “What do you suggest?”

“I...perhaps have Anders as a third person to kind of, I don’t know keep me grounded. For me to realize when my anger is getting the better of me. I don't do a good job of it love. I just, I fucking hate what I reduced you to, and I never want it to happen again.” Invictus looked at the floor as if it held answers or perhaps would swallow him whole if he wished hard enough.

“That is... Invictus, is that a fair thing to ask of Anders? That he be your... conscience, for lack of a better word, that he place himself between us like that. I have no doubt he would do it without complaint, but I would be concerned for the effect it would have on him,” said Fenris slowly. 

“I have already hurt him grievously once by lashing out. And I saw the anger on your face when he countered your spell earlier - what if you lash out at him instead? Can you control yourself enough not to endanger him?”

“I’ll have to. I don’t want either of you, or Orana for that matter to fear me. I’m not a monster Fenris, I don’t want the men I love to worry I will snap and kill them in a moment of rage. I won’t ask him then, it’s not fair to even ask.” Vic slumped forward and dropped his head in his hands. 

“What can I do, what will make you lo-” he stopped himself before he could ask a question he was afraid to hear the answer to. “What will make you comfortable again, safe with me love?” Vic asked instead.

“At the very least you should let Anders be party to such a discussion and let him decide for himself if he wishes to be placed in such a position,” said Fenris, shifting his balance on the desk. “I honestly do not know, Vic. It will take time. Trust once lost is not easily regained...love,” he added carefully.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. this isn’t how mum raised me. I’m sorry Fenris, please forgive me.” Vic said roughly.

“I want to,” admitted Fenris. “I am trying to, love.” He sighed a little hopelessly. He could not simply set aside what had happened. It was in his nature to bear grudges, and forgiveness was not something that had ever come easily to him. He had told the truth however; he _did_ want to forgive Invictus. He just didn’t know how. “Maybe Anders can talk sense into us each in his own way. Maybe he can teach me how to forgive, and you how to control that terrifying wrath within you. For all my harsh words during his time as an abomination, it is true he showed a remarkable degree of control over his demon and his own temper. Perhaps he can help you learn how to leash that fearsome monster you become and unleash it only upon our enemies at need instead of us in anger.”

“Perhaps, but please...just tell me I have not lost you. It would kill me I think beloved, to lose you to my own stupidity.” Vic whispered.

Fenris slipped down from the desk and made his way over to stand before the mage, dropping down to an easy crouch, one hand braced upon the Champion’s knee. “I told you before, love; had you lost me, I would not still be here talking to you. I would have left already. Words would not have sufficed to stop me. Take heart from my continued presence and learn to have faith in the evidence of your own eyes, love.”

“Thank you.” Vic said quietly as he looked into Fenris’ eyes. “I doubt I would be able to take it if you did walk out, no matter how much I deserved it.” 

“I am still here, beloved,” said Fenris softly.

“May I hold you, I need to know I can still do that, and I swear I will never bring fear to your heart again.” Vic asked.

Fenris rose to his feet and tugged Invictus up with him then stepped in close, resting his head against the Champion’s chest as he rested his hands upon Invictus’ hips.

Vic held him close and sniffled softly as he let himself sag in relief at being able to hold the elf again. “I’m sorry love, so sorry.” the mage repeated as they stood there.

“As am I,” said Fenris softly. “We have caused much hurt to one another, and to Anders.”

“Yes, I need to apologize to him as well. He was terrified of me earlier and I don’t want to see that again.” Vic replied. “I...can I confess something to you?”

Fenris glanced up at him. “What troubles you, love?”

“I feared I’d lost you to Zevran when I walked in to see you entangled together. It’s why my imagination jumped to such sharp words. He is an elf, not a mage, there’s no baggage attached to him as there is to me or Anders. I fear you’ll see he is a better match.” Vic admitted.

Fenris frowned slightly. “When first we encountered him on the road after Sebastian was so gravely wounded, and after when we returned home, it seemed to me you were quite encouraging of us ... exploring matters between us. Was that only because it seemed purely a sexual thing, with no emotions involved?”

“Somewhat, and I can deny you nothing love. But to see and hear him be so soft, gentle and caring. Then to hear him call you beloved tore at my heart. I saw your attraction and I would never deny you a chance to be happy.” Invictus said softly.

“Was that truly all there was to it?” asked Fenris, arching an eyebrow. “It did not occur to you that emotions might become involved... and yet, was that not how things started between us and Anders? A plaything of the moment except we all three got more than we had planned. Why then should you be surprised when it happens again?”

Invictus stepped back and stared at his lover. “A plaything? Do you think that’s what I did to you?” he rasped.

Fenris let his hands fall to his sides. “You do not deny that that is what you did to Anders,” he noted softly. “Yes, a plaything, Vic. Your words were: ‘an evening with Fenris in exchange’, if I recall. You were willing to give me to him for an evening, and then it surprises you to find that his heart had perhaps become more entangled than we could possibly have guessed. Why do you think his seeming use of me hurt so much, Vic? I accused him of doing to me no less than what _had_ been done to me.” His eyes were sad.

Vic closed his eyes as he recalled what he’d said. “Fuck...I thought, I thought I was giving you what you wanted. I’d never have done that if I thought you didn’t want him. I’m sorry, I...I’m no better than Danarius.” he slid to his knees and cowered before his lover.

“Don’t do this, Vic,” said Fenris softly, his voice pained. “It is over and done, the hurt passed.”

“No...I am no better than a magister. I fucking thought I gave you want you wanted, I thought it …” Vic broke off and made a terrible, choked noise as he knelt before Fenris.

Fenris made a faint pained sound in the back of his throat. “I did want it, but I wanted to choose for myself, not be handed over like a prize, beloved,” he said quietly. “How many times must Zevran have been handed over in just such a fashion, by others who cared little for his well-being? No wonder he reacted the way he did. But love, it is over and done. You cannot change the past, you can only choose to move on and not repeat it. I do not think you would do such a thing again.” 

He sighed. “Now we need Anders perhaps; he is better with words than I.” He tugged at Invictus. “Please, stand love, you know how uncomfortable I feel now to have you kneel before me like this.”

Invictus stood up and turned to go. “There’s nothing he can say about this, he’ll just hate me for what I have done. I need...I need to be alone for a while to think about this. I’ll find you in a bit.” 

“I... will go,” said Fenris slowly as he withdrew, his expression troubled. He headed to the bedroom in search of Anders.

Anders had fallen asleep in the chair by the window. Sunshine glinted off his hair, touching it with gold. The apostate’s head had fallen to one side, one hand resting limply upon the book upon his chest as he breathed slowly. His other hand hung by his side, almost brushing the floor. Fenris paused to stare at his sleeping lover, drinking in the sight of him in leather and white linen.

“That’s a good look for you.” Fenris said quietly as he approached and took the book from Anders slack grasp. The mage didn’t stir, sleeping peacefully, oblivious to the elf’s admiring and fond gaze.

Fenris ran his fingers through the dark blond strands as he smiled at him. He liked how he looked in the new clothes and the fact he could sleep so soundly in their home, made him happy.

Anders finally stirred, drawing in a deep breath and smiling as he turned his head slightly, eyes still closed. “Fenris,” he guessed sleepily.

“Yes, sorry I just felt the need to touch you, you looked...inviting.” He said quietly.

Anders opened his eyes and smiled up at his elven lover. “It’s fine, love, I like being touched.” His smile widened a little. “You like the new clothes then?”

“Definitely.” Fenris rumbled as he leaned in to kiss the mage on the forehead. 

Anders laid the book aside then folded his hands on his abdomen as he stared up at Fenris. “How did it go with Hawke?”

“He’s off in a corner hating himself. I brought up why I was even with Zevran to begin with and reminded him he used me as a bargaining chip. He thought he gave me something I wanted. Called himself no better than a magister and I left him to his loathing.” Fenris sulked even as he straddled Anders lap and looked down at him.

“So it went almost as badly as it could have. I don’t doubt he’ll be on pins and needles with me for fear of hurting me for a while.” 

Anders groaned. “I swear Hawke goes looking for things to wallow over sometimes,” he said tiredly. “It’s in the past - what does beating himself up achieve _now_? He can’t change what happened....” He noticed the exasperated look on Fenris’ face. “Ah. You pointed this out to him I take it?”

“Yes, but he’s ...you know he carried all that guilt over his family's deaths. Now we can add this to his ledger. It’s running redder and redder with each thing that happens.” Fenris said tiredly.

Anders let his head drop back against the back of the chair with a low groan. “I think we’ll just have to let him stew a little while until we can get him out onto the coast and beating up slavers or Val Tashoth or something and get it out of his system,” he murmured. He ran a hand gently up Fenris’ side over the elf’s tunic, somehow avoiding the brands through some innate sense. 

“Hmm yes, I’d rather find more pleasurable pursuits.” Fenris said huskily.

“Oh?” said Anders idly, letting his other hand trail up Fenris’ other side, watching the elf through half-closed eyes.

“Yes, especially since I came in to find you all wrapped up for me.” Fenris purred as his eyes closed and he let his head drop forward a little.

Anders took one of Fenris’ hands in his own and pressed it against his own chest, encouraging the elf to run his fingers over the tooled leather. “Were you planning on unwrapping me?” he whispered.

“Maybe, maybe I was hoping you’d unwrap me for a change. I could use some attention, good attention for a change.” Fenris said softly. “Assuming you can stay awake that is.” the elf said as he noticed how Anders had nearly nodded off as they spoke.

“I can stay awake, but I’m not sure I’m really up for much, love,” said Anders, a sad, faraway look in his eyes. “Maybe we could just... cuddle and talk for a bit?” He sighed. “I’m sorry, I seem to always be tired these days.”

“It’s alright, get out of your new clothes and we can get in bed. I’ll be good and not try to lure you into more.” Fenris stood up and offered his hand to his mage so they could go to bed.

Anders chuckled quietly as he let himself be tugged to his feet. “Are you sure the bed is such a good idea? I may very well fall asleep again once my head hits that pillow.” He pulled on Fenris’ hands until they stood chest to chest, and he wrapped his long arms around the elven warrior, inhaling the scent of his hair.

“Then where else? You’re too tall to rest in a chair with me. If you sleep, so be it. You probably need the rest, neither Vic or I have treated you well the last few days.” Fenris muttered against Anders chest.

Anders glanced out the window. “The garden,” he said quietly. “Come lie with me under the willow tree by the pool.”

“Alright, let’s get something eat on our way out.” Fenris said as he reluctantly pulled away and led Anders out of the room.

The blond apostate followed willingly, his gaze fond and yet sad as he stared at Fenris, letting himself be drawn in the elf’s wake. He glanced up as they entered the kitchen, Orana pausing in the act of taking some just-baked spiced buns out of the oven. 

“Oh, messeres, you’re early for lunch but I’ve just made these - shall I make a pot of tea?” she asked as she set the hot tray on a trivet.

“That would be appreciated, thank you Orana.” Fenris said with a smile for the elven woman. He watched her bustle around the kitchen, his thoughts drifted until Anders nudged him with his elbow to take the tray. The mage absently took a bun from the plate as they headed towards the garden, pulling small pieces from it to nibble as they walked.

He led the way over towards the pond, skirting around the still water to the slight mound beneath the willow tree and stretched out on his back, one hand tucked behind his head as he stared up through the green leaves and branches with a small sigh.

Fenris took one of the buns and handed Anders a cup of tea. “Why the sigh?”

“Hmm?” said the apostate as he sat up a little and took the cup. “Oh. No real reason,” he said quietly. “Just thinking about this and that.” He sipped the tea slowly. “I’m worried about what we’re going to run into out there. I almost wish you hadn’t mentioned what the Qunari like to do to their mages, though it’s a good reason to worry.”

“Don’t remind me, I’m going to have nightmares as it is.” Fenris said quietly. He finished the bun and brushed the crumbs away before he laid back down. “I worry about the four of us traveling together to be honest. Also, how I will possibly react once we get there.” 

“Unless we start running into magisters I should think you’ll be fine, unless there’s something else there you’re expecting to run into?” said Anders slowly, noting the expression on Fenris’ face.

The elf closed his eyes and tried to keep the anguish from his voice. “I...there are things in my past you do not know Anders. Once you make the potion, I can speak of it to you and possibly Zevran so you are aware of why I reacted as I did.” Fenris looked to Anders then back up at the sky, his expression haunted.

Anders nodded silently. He pulled the rest of the spiced bun to pieces and ate it bit by bit between sips of tea before he spoke again. “I’ll start brewing it when we go inside. It’ll take me a little while - there are several steps. Would you keep me company whilst I work?” He reached for another bun, toying with it.

“If you do not have to cast, I will stay with you. Otherwise I might just take a nap, assuming Vic is not in a full on sulk in bed and runs at the sight of me.” Fenris replied before he sat up and took another bun and some tea.

Anders grimaced. “I do, I’m afraid; there are two potions I have to brew first, both of which need augmenting, and then the final potion required casting whilst I blend them. Sorry, after the other evening I should have thought.” His long slender fingers were mindlessly shredding the bread roll as he stared at the still waters of the pool.

“Eat that bun or toss it for the pigeons, but you’re going to wind up covered in crumbs.” Fenris muttered.

“What?” said Anders, distracted, then looked down. “Oh.” 

“It’s alright, I think we’re both distracted. Leave me here in the garden while you work, I think I could use some sun.” Fenris murmured as he closed his eyes against the daylight.

Anders glanced at him, then got to his feet, a little taken aback at the dismissal. He stared at the crumbs in his hands, then ducked under the trailing branches of the willow and slowly made his way back towards the house, scattering handfuls of crumbs for the birds that fluttered down in his wake as he went.

Fenris opened his eyes and jumped up to follow him. “Where are you going? I didn’t mean for you to go right now.”

Anders turned and stared at him, unheeding of the feathers flying around him as the birds sprang back up into the air, startled by the elf’s approach. “I thought....” he began, bewildered. He stared at the last few crumbs in his hand then let them fall.

“No love, come back and lie with me, please?” Fenris asked quietly.

Anders nodded and followed Fenris back to the willow tree. He stretched out on the grass in the shade, his eyes on the elf, quiet and withdrawn. 

Fenris rolled over and wrapped his arm around Anders. “This is nice.”

Anders buried his face against Fenris’ shoulder and closed his eyes with a faint hum of agreement.

The elf reached up to stroke Anders hair and hum softly under his breath as they laid together.

Fenris wasn’t entirely surprised when he felt Anders’ body slowly grow heavier against him, the apostate’s long limbs relaxing as his breathing quieted and evened out.

The elf tightened his hold and soon was sound asleep along with his other mage lover. 

Invictus had looked all over the house for his other lovers once the bodies were cleared from the foyer. He finally found them sound asleep, clutched around each other in the garden. He wasn’t sure he had the heart to wake them from such a peaceful sleep.

Anders frowned slightly in his sleep as if somehow aware of the scrutiny; he pursed his lips then shifted slightly, making a faint noise in the back of his throat. One leg kicked briefly.  
Invictus came over and brushed his fingers over the other mage’s cheek softly. “Come inside, lunch is ready.” he called out to him. He was afraid to touch Fenris when he slept, afraid the elf would react poorly to a mage that accosted him in his sleep.

Anders jerked his head back with a muffled yell as his eyes flew open in alarm, startled from his dream. It took him a few moments to calm down enough to realise where he was.

Vic jumped back at Anders movement, and Fenris got to his feet, ready to attack. “What in the Void?” the elf grumbled.

“Dreaming - it was just a dream,” Anders panted, looking relieved.

“What kind of dream was that?” Fenris muttered.

“I’m sorry, I was just trying to wake you quietly.” Vic said as he stood there almost as if he was ready to flee from the way Anders had shocked him.

Anders sat up and rubbed his face tiredly. “I was being pinned down by Qunari... they were trying to sew my lips shut,” he muttered. He ran a slender finger over his lips and shuddered.

“I should have never told you what they do to mages.” Fenris whispered tiredly.

“Well, you did,” said Anders quietly. “And I guess I will see for myself soon enough anyway, if there are any Qunari mages in that settlement.” He glanced up at Invictus. “Don’t worry, I’m awake now; you just woke me up a little suddenly.”

“Lunch is ready, come in when you wish.” Vic said before he hurried back inside.

“I don’t need this shit.” Fenris snarled under his breath before he looked to Anders to see if he was ready to go.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vic gets a much needed wake up call, Fenris stands his ground and Anders is the rusty linchpin about to give way.

Fenris glanced back at Anders as he led the way back towards the house. Anders was looking a little disoriented as he ran a hand through his hair then tied it back, his movements a little slow and overly careful as though he were not entirely awake still.

Fenris entered the kitchen and sat across from Invictus; he noticed Anders sat between them on instinct almost as if he knew they needed a buffer. Zevran was nowhere to be seen. That didn’t mean the elf wasn’t around. 

The Tevinter warrior filled his plate and didn’t bother with asking if either of his lovers wanted something, he was starved and if he had a full mouth, he didn’t have to talk. 

Anders picked at his food, staring at the plate without seemingly seeing it, humming something faintly under his breath as he pushed the food around with his fork absently. He was oblivious to the small frown Invictus gave him, instead poking the food without really seeing it as he reached for his mug of tea.

“Fenris, I’ll make sure to keep in touch while I’m gone with ...Zevran. Anders, I ...I would like it if you would come along since I’m no healer,” Invictus finally said before he tucked into his own meal. 

The white haired elf set his cutlery down and looked to Invictus with a tired expression. “I’m going.”

Anders set his fork down and cradled his mug in both hands, staring into his own reflection in the hot tea, his back and shoulders tense.

“You...no, love you don’t have to go. I won’t ...I cannot have you hurt again. Please, stay here and safe,” Vic said in a panic. He knew what it meant for Fenris to go back there, and he could not stomach the idea of him being hurt, or worse; killed because he came with him.

“I am free to do as I please Invictus, I’ll return with you because I cannot in good faith let you all go without a decent sword between you and what you could face there. End of discussion,” Fenris said with a glower, his tone clipped and a shade shy of his _domne_ voice. 

Anders set the mug down, then frowned at a small nick on his thumb he didn't remember receiving somehow. He dismissed it as unimportant as he turned his head slightly towards Invictus, running his thumb slowly across his bottom lip thoughtfully.

“As you wish Fenris, whenever our Antivan friend appears, we can make plans to depart,” Vic said in defeat. He pushed his plate aside and took his mug in hand instead.

“He’s likely lurking about in here, but we’ve yet to notice him,” Fenris muttered as he went back to eating.

Anders picked up his own mug again, sipping slowly, his food mostly untouched. At least Invictus and Fenris hadn't actually fought over Fenris' decision, though the blond apostate doubted the matter was fully settled yet.

"I'll need to go to the clinic - I need some supplies from there, and I have a few potions I need to brew," he said, already mentally going through his supplies and the steps needed to brew the potion for Fenris.

“Take Zevran with you, I would like to speak to Invictus about this journey, uninterrupted,” Fenris said quietly.

Anders nodded and pushed his chair back from the table, rising to his feet. "I'll go find him," he said.

“Thank you,” Fenris replied before he turned to face Invictus. “Mind if we go upstairs to our room?”

“Lead the way,” Vic replied, his gaze on the table, not even his elven lover as he heard Fenris’ chair scrape on the tiles of the kitchen floor. 

Anders headed off towards the guest room to find Zevran. He found the elf practicing with his daggers, though he halted when Anders paused in the doorway. 

"Ah, Anders! You look tired my friend," remarked the elf as he sheathed his blades.

"It's nothing," replied Anders. "I need to fetch some things from my clinic and brew some potions; would you come with me? I could use a hand."

"And Fenris and Hawke could use a little space to discuss matters without us overhearing, no?" guessed Zevran. He smiled a little. "Lead on; my arms and strength are at your service my friend."

Anders paused only to grab his staff and then he led the way to the cellars. He hoped the two to three hours it might take to brew the potion would give his lovers time to sort out their issues.

**

Invictus followed behind Fenris like he was on his way to the noose rather than to just talk with him. He fell more than sat in the chair by the fire before he looked up to his lover with trepidation.

Fenris rounded on him with barely contained anger. “Why must you keep doing this?” he hissed. “Must we be treated to this behaviour the entire way to Seheron and back?”

“Doing what? Being sorry that I hurt you Fenris? That I am such a shitty person, I fucking traded you like that for information? I guess I shouldn’t be sorry I hurt someone I love then?” Vic countered.

“Wallowing in self-pity,” sneered Fenris. “The insult was to me yet from the way you carry on, anyone would think _you_ were the victim here. I tire of it, Invictus. You do this continuously - you hurt me, or Anders, and then you turn contrition into a whole descent into self-pity and it becomes all about you. I am tired of feeling I must compete with your ego for your affection.” He turned away with a noise of disgust but not before the Champion could see the flash of very real hurt and pain in the elf’s green eyes.

Whatever retort Invictus had in mind stilled on his tongue. He had nothing witty, or even intelligent to come back with. “What will make it better for you then? Do you wish to be done with me, stay with Anders and Zevran since I am so difficult to be with?” he asked instead. 

“You cannot stop, even now, can you?” whispered Fenris, his back to the mage, a slight trembling of his hands betraying the depth of his hurt and anger.

“Then what Fenris, what must I do to remedy this?” Vic said.

Fenris whirled and stared at him. “Figure it out for yourself,” he said bitterly. “I tire of always being the one to tell you what to do, how to fix your mistakes. If you truly care for me as you claim to, then _you_ find a way. Show how much this actually means to you. I will be wrestling enough with my own demons; it is unfair of you to expect me to handle yours as well when you make no effort to resist or fight them yourself.”

He stalked towards the mage and shoved him hard against the chest until Invictus fell into a chair and then followed him, his hands gripping the mage’s shoulders painfully hard through his robe as he leaned over him.

“Grow. Up,” he ground out. “Stop behaving like a whiny, lovesick teenager and act the man, the Champion you are supposed to be. Take responsibility for your actions instead of retreating into self-pity. Grow a spine and some self-respect for once. Because I am so damned exhausted of being the one to always be giving it to you. Is it any wonder I retreat to Anders, even to Zevran? It is because I do not feel I have to constantly fight for their affection... _love_.”

He straightened and backed away. “If you do not - if you choose to remain like this? Then yes, you _will_ lose me, Invictus, because I cannot keep doing this. I will go wherever Anders goes, for as long as he wishes to, because he needs my protection but does not begrudge my needs. You wish to know how to make amends? Look to Anders. Think on Arden. But do it soon, because you rend my heart in two with every day that passes like this, and I cannot bleed for you any longer, Invictus. You are killing me, and you do not even see it.”

He turned away, dropping his face to one hand as he drew a slow, shuddering breath.

Invictus had no words after Fenris’ speech. He sat there for a long time in stunned silence, his gaze firmly on the floor as he fought every instinct to run away from their fight. To do exactly as the elf accused him of. He was not a good man, he never pretended to be one.

Finally he nodded, his jaw clenched tight against all the words that finally bubbled from his mind, his heart for they would do nothing but sunder their bond if he gave voice to what was held against his teeth.

He stared everywhere but at the elf in front of him, his eyes burning with tears he did not wish to give Fenris, for his heart had been ripped in half with every word, and he knew that he was wrong, but he wanted to lash out, give him every bit of pain in return. So instead he blinked away the tears and stared at the rug, made filthy by Malum’s dirty paws.

The silence was broken by Fenris’ heaving breaths, and it finally occurred to him that Fenris was crying very quietly, one hand pressed to his lowered face, the other fist clenched tight, his shoulders shaking.

Vic stood and went to the elf, his arms slowly came around him so he could pull back if he wished. When he didn’t feel Fenris pull away, he leaned his head against the soft white hair and just held him.

Fenris leaned back into the embrace, fighting to control his breathing. He didn’t trust his voice enough to speak, simply allowing himself to be held as he tried to swallow down his tears.

Vic dared raise his hand to caress the back of Fenris’ neck and massage his head. “Sorry.” was all he could get out, for he didn't’ trust himself not to lash out, not yet.

Fenris swallowed hard. “S-so am I,” he managed in a low rasp.

“You’ve nothing to apologize for.” Invictus said as he held Fenris to him, his own tears fell against the elf’s hair as they stood together, Vic was a mess but he owed it to his lover to not keep hurting him. He just wasn’t sure how to start.

Fenris wiped his face with the back of his hand and drew a ragged breath. “What a pair we make,” he said softly.

Vic said nothing, he just let Fenris go and turned so the elf wouldn't see him crying as well. He finally looked back at him tiredly, still with his tongue held so he wouldn’t make it worse somehow.

Fenris’ eyes were red, as was the tip of his nose, and the elf looked exhausted. “I need a drink,” the warrior muttered to himself.

Vic poured him a glass of Nevarran Red and handed it to him silently, his expression neutral as he tried to work through things. Fenris accepted it with a nod of thanks as he dropped into his usual favoured seat and took a hasty mouthful of wine.

Vic didn’t take a drink, he was too out of it to consider what it would do to him with his mind already in turmoil. Instead he took a seat opposite Fenris, but found no words would come to him, even idle chatter.

Fenris did not speak until he had drained his glass, and then he set the crystal down. “Anders is brewing a potion for me,” he said quietly. “The same one he made for me once before, to help with... shock. Once I have taken it, we should explain to both he and Zevran just why I fear returning to Seheron. I wish the truth to be known by them both before we set foot upon that accursed isle.”

“I can see if Anders needs help with the potion, it was difficult to make from what I recall.” Vic’s voice sounded dull to him but he didn’t have it in him to care, and he couldn’t fake being cheerful no matter what happened.

“He has gone to his clinic with Zevran to brew it, I believe; he said he needed certain supplies he does not have here.” The elf stared at his hands as they rested upon his knees.

“I see.” was Vic’s reply. “I need...I want to nap, I’m so damned tired.” he muttered.

“We are all tired,” countered Fenris irritably. “Anders most of all I fear; I worry for him, Invictus. He falls asleep almost the moment he lies down, and yet no matter how long he sleeps he wakes as exhausted as before. I fear he has done himself some hurt by using his life essence so much to heal. I can only pray that he will not further risk himself in this venture of Zevran’s. He is... not himself, I fear. He is too quiet, withdrawn.”

“Perhaps we can all talk after dinner tonight, me, you and him. Once your potion has worn off that is. I’d like it if you were fully yourself for such discussions. If you wish to talk, that is.” Vic said as he crossed the room and went to the door, unsure about asking Fenris to join him for a lie-down.

“Invictus, I will still be myself even when I have taken the potion. My thinking will simply be unclouded by extremes of emotion,” pointed out Fenris. “We need to discuss Seheron with both Anders and Zevran, but it might be a suitable point to discuss with Anders just what is going on with him afterwards.” He pushed himself up off out of his chair and followed towards the door.

“That’s not what I meant, I just...thought it might be better to discuss that part of things once it had worn off is all. I meant no offense Fenris.” Vic replied quietly. “I...am going to try and nap, if you want, that is if you...would like to join me.” he finished in a quick stammer.

Fenris shook his head with a small frown, his thoughts still on Anders. “No, if I sleep now I will not be able to sleep later,” he said quietly. “I will go practice swordwork in the garden for a while until Anders returns.”

“Ok.” Vic said and opened the door to head to their room. The rejection stung but what did he expect after he’d hurt his lover so deeply?

Fenris didn’t notice Invictus’ face fall as he entered their room and picked up his sword, but as he turned to leave he noticed the mage’s crestfallen look. His frown deepened before shifting to a neutral expression though his eyes betrayed his brief flare of irritation. “It is warm outside. You could nap under the willow whilst I practice,” he suggested, managing to keep the curtness out of his voice.

Vic caught the hint of annoyance in the elf’s eyes but said nothing. “Only if I will not be in the way, your sword is long as you’re tall.” he replied.

“If you stay under the tree and I upon the lawn, you will be safe,” replied the elf.

“Lead on then.” Vic replied.

Fenris strode out to the garden, where he lay his sword upon a wooden bench before stripping off his tunic. He waited until Invictus had settled himself beneath the willow tree on the other side of the pond, and then he took up his sword and began stretching and going through warm-up lunges.

Vic stretched out and tried to sleep but found he couldn’t drift off. Whether it was the ambient noise of the street, the soft thumps every time Fenris landed during his workout or his own restless mind, he could not sleep. So he turned to watch his elven lover go through his moves, his eyes glued to every dip, turn and thrust the warrior made.

Fenris moved with the grace of a dancer - a deadly grace, each movement delineated by the flash of his blade as it curved through the air, each strike precisely placed as he whirled and thrust. His movements blurred as his brands flared into life and he flickered and danced, a lyrium ghost whose feet seemed scarcely to touch the ground as he vanished and reappeared, then between one footstep and another his bare feet solidified before he leapt, shifted, and reappeared in a lethal ballet of light and steel.

Vic was so enthralled by the elf’s movements he barely dared to breathe as he watched him move around the garden. 

Fenris shifted faster and faster, feet dancing lightly over the grass as he moved in a blur that Invictus could barely follow, breathing coming faster as he perspired under the brilliant sunlight as he steadily worked his way through sword form after form, each movement flawless, practiced until it was almost as natural as breathing, his mind dropping into a calm sharpness within the storm of his blade’s fury. This was joy and peace to him; a moving meditation in which every step, every turn, every graceful flow of hands was designed to deadly purpose.

He finished an arcing pirouette and came to a halt, chest heaving, sweat dripping in his eyes as he focused on the shining steel blade held easily balanced in his outstretched hand. He held the pose for perhaps a heartbeat longer than the form required, and then he slowly lowered the blade. The sounds of the garden slowly encroached upon his awareness once more and he blinked, glancing round as he came out of his almost-trance.

Vic sat up and smiled at his lover, awestruck at his prowess with a blade, how he was deadly and beautiful and terrible all at once. 

Fenris wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand as he glanced over to Invictus, feeling an inner peace he’d been sorely lacking of late. He had been neglectful of his practice, and this had been his first real chance to immerse himself in the sword properly and put his body through its paces. As he looked at Invictus, his green eyes held a serene, peaceful look that had been all too rare of late. he gave Invictus a slow nod and raised his sword in brief salute before turning away to pick up his sword kit. He walked over to drop down into a crosslegged seat next to the mage before taking out a polishing cloth to buff the gleaming steel of his blade.

“You’re beautiful.” Vic said quietly as he watched Fenris work on his blade. He glanced away, sure the elf might not appreciate it but that was the best word he could come up with for how he looked as he practiced.

Fenris’ hands slowed on the blade, his head low, but a small smile spread across his lips though he said nothing.

Vic wanted to curl up next to Fenris and hold him but he knew he’d be in the way. So he settled for just watching the elven fighter clean his massive sword.

Fenris oiled and polished the blade, working the cloth steadily over the whole blade until he was satisfied not a speck of dust or dirt remained before he slid it carefully back into the sheath, then he packed away the sword kit. Laying it and his sword aside, he folded his hands behind his head and lay down upon the grass beneath the tree with a contented sigh. His muscles ached from the workout and his brands itched as ever, but he felt good for the workout.

Vic laid down next to him and wrapped his arm around the elf, still tense in case he wasn’t in the mood to be touched, but happy to be with him. They almost mirrored the post he’d found Fenris in with Anders earlier but he banished the thought from his mind so he wouldn't’ give in to the spark of jealousy that tried to creep into his thoughts.

Fenris hummed contentedly and closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth of the afternoon air and the peace that had settled upon him. He pulled a hand out from behind his head to rest it around Invictus’ shoulders.

Vic closed his eyes and finally relaxed in Fenris’ grip, his breathing slowed and he finally drifted off. He was safe for the moment, his lover was next to him and he was content.

The sun was shifting behind the trees and the garden growing cooler when Fenris heard someone approaching; he lifted his head to see Anders heading across the garden towards them, Zevran at his side. Fenris’ hand tightened slightly on Invictus’ shoulder to waken him as the elf watched the others approach; he frowned as Anders stumbled slightly and Zevran put out a hand to steady the blond apostate, a slightly worried look upon the other elf’s face.

Fenris shook Vic until the other mage opened his eyes and sat up, the elven fighter froze when he felt how Invictus tensed next to him. “Don’t, whatever it is you’re thinking of, just don’t. Remember our talk Vic.”

“Not going to do anything love, nothing at all.” Invictus replied even as he glared at Zevran while he rose and dusted himself off. He held his hand out for Fenris, that same expression that often scared bandits and robbers off when they saw it, aimed at the shorter elven rogue.

Zevran ignored it as he slipped a hand under Anders’ elbow and helped the mage sit down next to Fenris before stepping back, his gaze only then flicking over to Fenris as Anders held out a potion bottle.

“It’s finished,” the blond apostate said tiredly. “Sorry it took a little longer than I thought; several patients showed up whilst I was brewing it and I lost track of time until Zevran told me how late it was.”

“It’s no bother, we’ve kept you from the clinic for too long as it is.” Fenris said as he took the bottle and turned it over in his hands with a sad look. “After dinner, I’ll take it and then...explain why I reacted as I did.” 

Invictus looked at the potion bottle as if it would leap out of Fenris’ hand and attack him. He knew it was the best way for his lover to recall his past without falling into the despair that telling his tale would bring out in him. What he didn’t like was the vacant, listless expression he had the last time he used it. Rather how confused he’d seemed that he hadn’t fallen to his feelings still bothered Vic.

“I’m going to head in and get something to eat before dinner, not really feeling well all of a sudden.” Invictus said as he stood up and waved off the offer of healing from Anders.

“No, you take care of yourself. I think I just had too much sun and not enough water or food today. I’ll see you all inside.” He leaned over to kiss Fenris on the cheek and whisper how much he loved him. 

“I love you too Vic.” Fenris replied as he watched Vic rise and head off to the house. Once the Champion was gone, the elf helped Anders to rise so they could go in. 

“Come Anders, I could do with a bite to eat as well.” the Tevinter elf said quietly with a glance at Zevran. The Antivan elf inclined his head and stepped back, falling into step behind them as they headed back towards the house.

Anders leaned in against the elf, an arm draped loosely around Fenris’ shoulders as they walked. “I’m feeling a little nervous,” he admitted quietly. “Given how you’ve been reacting since Seheron was first mentioned, it makes me worry-”

“Perhaps further discussion should wait until your potion has taken effect, friend Anders,” interjected Zevran quietly from behind them.

“Not as nervous as I am, I am unsure how you will...react once you’ve heard the tale.” Fenris said quietly.

“Maybe it’s just as well I made more than one batch of the potion,” said Anders quietly.

That just made Fenris frown slightly as they walked in. He was glad to see Invictus had not run off but was at the table with a half full plate, his gaze open for once.

Anders slipped into a seat quietly. Zevran waited until Fenris had seated himself before sitting down between Anders and Fenris.

“Orana made enough for a battalion, help yourself.” Vic offered as he worked on finishing his plate and not making eye contact with anyone but Fenris and Anders.

Zevran got up and went to help himself. Glancing back over his shoulder he noticed that Anders hadn’t moved; when he returned, he slid a plate of food in front of the blond apostate before sitting and tucking into his own plate.

Anders stared down at the plate then picked up his fork and began to eat slowly.

Vic didn’t glare at Zevran though he wanted to. He didn’t need the Antivan getting between him and Anders as well. It was bad enough Fenris had fallen back in with him. Instead he got Fenris a plate and served him before getting a second portion.

The silence at the table as they ate was almost oppressive. Anders ate with little appetite, pushing the food around with his fork more than actually eating. Only Zevran appeared to show any sign of actual enjoyment of his meal, clearing his plate first.

“Anders, you should eat. I know your warden appetite is greater than you let on.” Vic said quietly.

“Remember that I said I would sit on you and make you eat if you continued to starve yourself. You are entirely too light for a man of your size.” Fenris chimed in.

Anders dropped his fork and lowered his head. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I just don’t have any appetite. I... can’t.”

Fenris shared a look with Invictus then gently put his hand on Anders arm. “Please...you sleep too much as it is, and if you don’t eat properly you won’t recover any energy. If not now, then maybe later?”

Anders was silent a moment then slowly nodded. “Maybe later,” he agreed.

“Thanks...if you’re done eating, maybe we can get this over with before I lose my nerve?” Fenris asked his other mage lover.

“Perhaps in the foyer, since it’s not so...oppressive in the evening.” Vic offered.

“Good idea,” agreed Anders quietly.

Fenris grabbed the potion bottle and a small glass then headed to his favorite chair so he could pour himself the first dose. He found his hand trembled too much to actually do it, so he looked to Invictus to help.

“Of course love.” Vic poured a third of the dark green potion out and watched as Fenris drank it quickly, his expression tense as he watched how the elf seemed to change slightly, his expression wasn’t blank, just not...right was the best way he could explain it if asked. 

Anders dropped himself into a chair near the unlit fireplace and his grey kitten came racing across the foyer to take a flying leap onto his lap. He gave her a small, wan smile and patted her as she turned on his knee before settling down, purring contentedly.

Zevran glanced around at how they’d arrayed themselves, and then took up a position a little behind Anders’ chair, leaning against the stone fireplace, where he could observe them all.

Fenris stared into the fireplace as he felt himself walled off from the emotion of what had happened to him in Seheron so long ago. He spoke quietly, with little inflection as he told them of his accidental escape from Danarius, how he’d been hurt and nursed to health by the Fog Warriors.

How he’d learned to live as a free man, but always fearful that Danarius would return and find him. His voice didn’t change in pitch or tone as he closed his eyes and recounted the slaughter he’d committed on the magisters command, a few words and he’d become a faithful, compliant killer once more and how he’d run from their still cooling bodies and ran until his lungs burned, his legs cramped and he screamed out his grief in the pitch of night. 

Fenris finished his tale and finally turned to see his lovers and Zevran, unable to be afraid of their reaction to his past.

Anders had a horrified look upon his face which was a little greenish and pale. His hands had stilled upon the kitten as he stared at Fenris with a mixture of horror and sympathy.

Zevran’s face was unreadable, a blank mask, but his eyes glinted suspiciously bright as he regarded the other elf. He slowly nodded. “Now I understand,” he said softly. “You were a weapon, and Danarius wielded you as such. But Danarius is dead, and no other will ever wield you again.”

“Easier said than done, this lyrium, this stain upon my skin and soul can be played by a maleficar. Who knows what secrets Danarius shared with his cadre of sycophants. Who knows if he created another like me? The Fog Warriors may well slay me on sight, as is their right to take the life of one who has betrayed them.” Fenris turned and stared at the smouldering fireplace, his gaze vacant.

“I think if there were another like you, then it would be impossible to keep it a secret. And had Danarius shared the secret of how he created you, all magisters would have lyrium ghosts, yes?” replied Zevran. “As for the Fog Warriors, they were all in the north of the island, deep in the jungles, when last I was there - we shall not go half so far into the interior of the isle.”

“Do not be so blithe about his concerns.” Invictus said before he knelt before Fenris, his head against the elf’s knee.  
“Do you wish to go, I will not fault you if you wish to stay behind love,” he offered.

“Blithe?” replied Zevran quietly. “Not so. Merely pointing out fact: there are no others like Fenris. He carries a king’s ransom in lyrium in his skin. It would have taken much of Danarius’ fortune to create him - do you think he could so easily afford to replace him? Why else did he seek to recover the lyrium through his servants? No, I think we can trust that Danarius did not create another, and the magisters keep their secrets closer than even the Crows do. Danarius would not have been able to create another and it is certain no other magisters have matched his feat with Fenris. As for the Fog Warriors, they have other matters on their minds They love neither the Qunari nor the Imperium and are beset by encroachments from both upon their territory. I do not think we will see them. Let us not borrow trouble, my friends; the Qunari will suffice.”

Fenris lifted his hand and let it fall on the short, tight curls on top of Invictus’ head. “I will go, I will not be able to live with myself if you or Anders came to harm when I could have been at your side.” his fingers curled reflexively to scratch at the mages scalp.

He turned slightly to look at Zevran. “Invictus loves me, and I have no idea what Danarius got up to once I escaped. I cannot discount he attempted to make another like me. The Fog Warriors range wide and far, I have my own reasons to fear their retribution. They may well know when I enter their land and hunt me.” Fenris said in that same eerily flat voice.

“You forget that I have been there recently, and I have my own sources of intelligence,” replied Zevran. “And you will not be going alone.”

“Be glad I cannot be angry right now. My reasons are my own and they will not be discounted based on your recent forays there.” Fenris said before he turned to Anders. 

“Your reaction? You seem as if you will be sick at the revelation of what I’ve done.” he asked the mage as Vic sat there like a content cat and listened to the talk around him. Pleased that Fenris had not let Zevran dismiss his concerns so out of hand.

“Not... not at what you did,” said Anders slowly. “What Danarius made you do. What you must have gone through. I remember... I remember what it felt like, to be imprisoned in my own body whilst Justice killed... the horror of not being able to do anything to stop it, even to scream out, to tell them to run. The thought that Danarius did that to you... that you went through that... I just -”

He broke off suddenly and lurched to his feet, Lady yowling in disapproval at being dislodged. “I’m sorry. I’m going to be sick,” he said, and fled.

“As I expected.” Fenris said before he nudged Vic to move so he could go after Anders. He went down the hall until he heard the sound of retching from the guest privy.

“Anders?” the elf asked after him, softly so he didn’t startle the mage.

There was a low groan, and then Anders coughed, clearing his throat. “I just need a moment,” he gasped. 

“I will wait here so I can assist you.” Fenris said before he leaned against the other wall to wait out the mage. After a few more minutes, Anders emerged from the privy, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, looking pale and shaky.

“Glad I didn’t eat much now,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry, that... probably looked bad. I just....” He closed his eyes and drew a ragged breath. “All I could see in my mind was that poor girl Ella, and the wardens with Rolan.... Maker, love, no wonder you were such a mess at thought of going back there.” He opened his eyes and stumbled to the elf, wrapping his arms around him as he buried his face against the elf’s soft hair.

Fenris responded automatically, but his expression remained the same, placid as he held the mage in his arms. “I can return your affection, but it’s not the same for me until this potion wears off.” he muttered.

“Maybe I should have taken some too before you started,” said Anders, his voice trembling a little. “I could do without remembering certain things myself. I... I’m not sure I can face any further revelations or talk of Seheron this evening, love. I’m... not feeling too good.”

“I’ll get Vic and we can go to bed, just relax if you want.” Fenris offered.

“No need to get me, I came out when you two didn’t return right away. Take Anders up, I’ll pick up in the kitchen and join you.” 

Zevran stood a short distance behind Invictus. “I think perhaps an early night all round would be a good idea,” remarked the Antivan as he sketched a brief bow. “I trust you will not be disturbed by unpleasant dreams after this evening’s revelations.”

“He won’t be,” replied Anders. “And I have a potion in the bedroom that guarantees I won’t be either.”

“Hmm. Be careful, my friend; such potions should be used sparingly, and you do not look well,” remarked Zevran. “Until the morning then.” He turned and strode towards the guest room. 

Fenris nodded to Vic then escorted Anders to their room and helped the blond undress before he stripped from his own clothing. “Come, we both need to sleep, tomorrow I guess we will plan our journey or even depart.” 

Vic watched as Zevran disappeared down the hall before he made good on his word to tidy up. He entered the bedroom just as Anders had pulled the dark green glass bottle out of his pack. The blond apostate made his way over towards the bed, clutching the bottle. He sat on the edge and reached for a drinking glass that sat on the bedside table, half-filling it with the sleeping draught.

“Sleep well.” Fenris said before he rolled to the middle of the bed so Anders could have the right side.

Anders set the bottle down then stretched out on the bed. “I will after this,” he said quietly before downing the glass.

The elf gave him a kiss on the cheek, and once he was sound asleep he turned to face Invictus. “Join us?”

“I am, just didn’t want to be in Anders’ way.” Invictus said tiredly as he walked and pulled clothes off until he crawled into bed nude, hopeful that Fenris wouldn’t mind his state of undress. He still felt as if things were fragile between them, but he wouldn’t tiptoe around the elf...too much.

“He’s fast asleep already,” said Fenris quietly. He glanced over to Invictus. “And he still hasn’t eaten enough.” He sighed.

“I know, we need to remedy that while we are traveling. He’ll need his strength, I don’t doubt he’ll have to fight damned hard once we’re there.” Vic traced his fingers over the blond mages brow gently before he looked to Fenris. 

“Are we ok now? Getting there?” the Champion asked hopefully.

Fenris glanced to the sleeping mage, then back at Invictus. “Slowly, perhaps,” he said quietly. 

Vic nodded and laid down on his side, his face betrayed him and he knew it but he wasn’t quick enough to school his expression to something neutral. “Alright.” he whispered before he turned his face to the pillow and tried to relax enough to sleep.

“Invictus... it will take time,” said Fenris softly. “You cannot expect things to go back to how they were in a matter of hours after what happened between us all. It was too... too much, and healing from a hurt such as that... it will take time, love. I am sorry.”

Invictus shrugged before he curled around his pillows and tried to keep the words off his tongue that would make Fenris leave him. He sighed against the fine linen and muttered goodnight to his lover.

“Goodnight, beloved,” said Fenris quietly as he curled up against the unconscious blond apostate, resting his head against Anders’ chest so he could reassure himself with the sound of the blond mage’s heartbeat; it steadily lulled him to sleep as it beat steady and strong.

**

Invictus had risen well before his lovers and had already started on preparations to depart on the first ship they could get to Antiva when there was a knock on the study door. He hadn’t slept much, his heart hurting even more after Fenris had turned to Anders and away from him. He’d promised to try but with each move away from him, he felt Fenris slip away and it made his own fears prey on his mind, his assurance he was still loved. He’d even slipped into Leandra’s room for a time to try and focus, to remember that things weren’t always like that.

It helped, but he knew every time he saw Zevran help Fenris or Anders it was going to grate on him a bit more. He knew it would get harder to hold his tongue, not let them see how he was starting to resent them all for what he knew in his heart was his fault. He’d accepted his role, his part but damned if it wasn’t hard to move forward as long as the assassin was in their midst.

He looked up from his brooding, called out for his visitor to enter so he could get back to planning out their voyage.

Fenris let himself into the study and closed the door behind himself, resting his back against it. He stared at his feet for a minute then glanced up at the mage. “I can return later if you are busy,” he said quietly.

Vic shook his head. “I’ll be at this for a while, so stay.”

Fenris straightened and approached the desk, circling around to crane his neck and look at the papers. “We are... going by sea?” He drew a deep breath. “I...see. Of course, it has to be by sea.”

“It would take too long otherwise, I am not thrilled either. Not after traveling here stuck in a hold with too many other Fereldens that escaped the blight. If there was another way, I’d take it.” Vic muttered almost angrily as he worked.

“From things Anders has said, I do not think he will enjoy the trip much either,” said Fenris. “Perhaps it is as well he brewed plenty of potions. I hope he made one for seasickness....”

“None of us are going to enjoy this trip.” Vic said as he continued to mark up a map and jot down notes. He wondered what Fenris actually wanted but he didn’t ask, it wasn’t going to be worth the fight, especially with how long they were to be cooped up on a ship together.

“I drew up a list of provisions and Bodahn has gone to the market,” said Fenris. “Anders is still sleeping.” He glanced out the study window behind Invictus, one hand resting upon the back of the chair.

“Thank you for that, Anders will probably sleep for a bit longer if that potion is as strong as the one he’s used before.” Vic said as the quill twitched in his fingers, unsure what his lover wanted, but not willing to ask.

Fenris drew a breath, then turned to Invictus. “I....” He broke off, an uncertain look upon his face.

“What’s wrong?” Invictus asked quietly.

“There is a... a space between us, and I... I do not know how to.... I want....” Fenris’ large green eyes were troubled.

“What do you want? What do you mean by space?” Vic said slowly. 

“I can feel us drifting apart, Vic, and it... scares me. I... want you. I want... reassure me, please, love. I know I must seem inconstant but... though I said it would take time for things to be how they were before, I do not think I can bear for you to be quite so distant.” Fenris’ eyes were beseeching - what Merrill would have called his “puppy eyes”. It was rare for the elf to look so uncertain of himself; it were as though Fenris were radiating what they both felt, nervous and vulnerable.

Invictus closed his eyes and counted to ten in his head so the bitter, angry words would stay where they belonged, the back of his mouth, in his throat where they wouldn’t cut the fragile thread that held them together. He finally opened his eyes and looked to Fenris, unsure what he could do to make things right.

“What can I do to reassure you?” he finally asked, his own eyes troubled as he watched his elven lover for some sign he was finally on the right path to redemption for his past. 

Fenris stepped hesitantly closer, then another step, until he was standing beside Invictus. He cradled the mage’s face between the palms of his hands, the lines of lyrium lightly tingling against Invictus’ skin as the elf bent over him. Fenris paused, his lips a mere whisper away from the mage’s own, as if afraid Invictus would pull away.

“You are holding back, what is it?” Vic asked as he stared into the forest green depths of the elf’s eyes. 

“Last time I tried to kiss you, you turned away from me,” murmured Fenris. “I am afraid you will do so again.”

“I’m not moving, you have me in your grasp as always.” Vic murmured before he leaned in to kiss Fenris, carefully, slowly and awkwardly with how he sat lower than Fenris was leaned in.

Fenris’ lips parted, inviting the mage in as he shifted round and lowered himself to sit in the mage’s lap, his hands shifting from Invictus’ face to drape around the Champion’s shoulders as he tilted his head, never breaking the kiss.

Vic pulled back only when he found he needed to breathe. He looked to Fenris for some confirmation that their kiss was enough reassurance. 

The elf’s eyes were closed and he gasped for breath like a drowning man before leaning closer for another kiss.

Vic let him lead the next kiss, he felt Fenris’ grip tighten around him until the elven warrior was the one to break their embrace for air.

Fenris opened his eyes slowly and stared up at Invictus. “Thank you, love,” he said huskily.

“Welcome.” Vic replied, his gaze on every movement the elf made, his heart hopeful but still unsure of where they stood. After Fenris had chosen to curl against Anders the night before, he was still worried for their relationship.

Fenris curled against the mage, resting his head against Invictus’ chest quietly.

Vic’s hand automatically went up to caress the back of Fenris’ head, but his gaze was troubled as he stared over the desk at the fireplace, unlit because of how nice the weather was. He glanced down at the crown of white hair, and he fought to keep a sob in. He felt like everything was borrowed, that it was all going to go to pieces the moment they set foot on the ship, that his long ride was due a short, brutal end.

Fenris felt him shift, the twitch in his chest as his breath hitched slightly, and he glanced up, worried. “Beloved?” he asked quietly.

“It’s nothing.” Vic replied.

Fenris’ answer was an arched eyebrow.

“It’s nothing...I’m fine.” Vic replied again before he rested his cheek against his lover’s head, mostly to keep that sharp green gaze off him when he felt transparent as Orlesian crystal.

“Would that be the same ‘fine’ that Anders insists on being when all evidence is to the contrary?” asked Fenris dryly.

Invictus scowled but didn’t answer him. “I said I’m fine, please...just, I can’t argue with you right now. Just leave it.” he finally said. 

Fenris lowered his head, but not before Invictus could see the contrition in his eyes. “My apologies, love,” he said quietly.

“Besides, it would just make you angry and reveal how insecure I still feel.” Vic admitted.

“There must be a middle way love, between arguing over everything and being afraid to speak. Is it something I have done?” asked Fenris tentatively.

Vic was silent for long moments before he spoke. ‘Last night...when you turned to Anders, it hurt.”

Fenris blinked, and then a remorseful look crossed his fine features. “I am sorry, beloved,” he groaned. “It unnerves me how... dead Anders looks after he takes that sleeping draught. I was merely trying to reassure myself he was still physically well, it did not occur to me how my actions might have appeared to you. I... needed to hear his heart beat.” He rested his head against Invictus’ chest, feeling the dark mage’s heart beating firm and strong beneath his delicate upswept ear.

“I told you it was stupid, just let it go.” Vic said tiredly.

“Not stupid, love,” said Fenris quietly. “It was thoughtless on my part after what we had said. I will try to be more considerate in future.”

Vic shrugged and held the elf a little closer to his chest. He didn’t want to fight, and he felt stupid admitting his jealousy.

After a while, Fenris straightened. “I should go and see if Anders is awake yet,” he said reluctantly. “We must make sure he eats breakfast before we leave, at the very least, though I suspect that will not be easy.”

“The Deathroot extract makes it difficult to rouse him if he’s not fully awake. I should learn the antidote from him, in case we ever have need of rousing him from it suddenly.” Vic said as he watched Fenris rise and stretch.

“Possibly Zevran may know an antidote - he may even have one with him,” remarked Fenris. “Poisons are his stock-in-trade, after all.” 

“I will ask Anders, it’s his potion, I trust his knowledge.” Vic said as he rose and stretched a kink from his back.

Fenris shrugged. “It is an option however should we have need of it. Shall we go wake Anders together?”

“Sure.” Vic said softly.

Fenris led the way to the bedroom where Anders still slumbered. He hadn’t stirred since downing the potion the previous evening and lay exactly as he had fallen asleep, lying upon his back with his hands folded upon his breast, head tilted a little to one side.

“You’re right, he does look rather...dead like that.” Vic said before he sat down and laid his palm over Anders forehead. “Wake up, come to us love.” he called even as he cast Rejuvenate on the slighter man.

Anders’ eyelids fluttered and then slowly opened as he drifted back towards waking. He blinked, drowsy and confused as he slowly turned his head to stare up at Invictus.

“Where... what time is it?” he asked, voice slightly slurred from sleep.

“Afternoon, you have not moved one bit since you downed the potion. Do you need a bit more to wake up or can you sit up?” Vic asked while Fenris hovered nearby to help if needed.

“As late as that?” said Anders, bewildered, struggling to sit up. “I didn’t think I’d taken as much as all that....”

“You said you’ve built a tolerance to it.” Fenris said as he helped the mage to get upright. “I worry that you need so much to actually rest.”

Anders shook his head. “After what you told me last night, and the memories it brought back for me - that flashback to Ella... I didn’t want to dream,” he said quietly. “I’m a coward, I know, but... I didn’t want to face that, or whatever else my subconscious might dredge up right now.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed then leaned forward to rest his head in his hands, his elbows braced upon his knees. “I just feel so tired all the time,” he sighed.

“I know, hopefully you can catch up on sleep during the voyage. There won’t be much else to do until we arrive.” Vic said tiredly. 

“Come, let’s get you fed and then maybe Vic can help you with a bath while I see Varric to tell him of our plans. Hopefully Zevran has kept himself out of trouble while we’ve been busy.” Fenris said more to himself than the other men.

Anders lifted his head. “Voyage?” he said, a wary note creeping into his voice as he glanced up at Invictus.

“Yes, the only way to get there in a reasonable amount of time is to sail to Antiva then travel the rest of the way on foot, or horses if we can get them. Trust me, none of us will enjoy this little jaunt. But I gave my word after all.” Vic said bitterly before he helped Anders to his feet. 

“Just marvelous,” muttered Anders. “This all just gets better and better....”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They'll be on their way to Seheron by next chapter. Promise :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one likes traveling by sea, Vic really hates Zevran and his moment of peace is spoiled by his own stubbornness. This has got to be the longest two weeks at sea in everyone's life.

Two weeks into the voyage and Fenris hated everything, the stink of the sea, the constant motion, and the ball of dread that grew in his gut with each day they sailed closer to Antiva. He slept more often than not with the help of potions or drink. It was one of the rare times he was awake and able to stay on deck as they sailed. 

He’d taken up a point on the horizon to stare at in the hopes it would quell his stomach. Fenris nearly jumped when he heard Zevran’s voice behind him.

“My apologies _carissimi_ , I did not mean to startle you,” said Zevran as he stepped up beside Fenris at the rail. “Anders is sleeping again, and it seemed prudent to stay away from Hawke.”

“Why do you say that?” Fenris said as he gazed at his fixed point. 

“Hmm, the bolt of lightning he shot at my head perchance gave it away?” Zevran smiled.

Fenris groaned as he finally turned towards the other elf. “Why did he risk starting a fire by doing such a thing? Did you goad him again, Anders told me how you made things go poorly when you were still laid up.” 

“I merely observed that perhaps it was not a good idea to allow Anders to continue to dose himself and perhaps one of us should take on that duty. I volunteered, and Hawke refused. Quite strenuously,” added Zevran with a shrug.

“He’s never going to trust you, no matter how much evidence is before him. Things are shaky right now, we’re all on edge for being cooped up on this ship and no one is looking forward to what we are going to do. Be understanding, please.” Fenris asked quietly.

Zevran inclined his head as he produced a small vial from one of his belt pouches. “Just so. Perhaps, then, I should give you this.” He held the vial out to Fenris.

“What is it?” the Tevinter elf asked as he eyed the vial then looked to Zevran curiously.

“It is an antidote to deathroot,” said Zevran soberly. “If his breathing is impaired or you cannot wake him, place four drops upon his tongue. No more, no less.”

“Thank you, but be aware that if Vic knows you gave it to me, he won’t trust that it won’t harm Anders. No matter our reconciliation, he won’t want your help unless it is a dire situation.” Fenris palmed the vial and put it into his belt pouch.

“Then do not tell him until after you have used it and saved your lover’s life, hmm?” smiled Zevran. “And I will take the consequences if need be. I would rather you had the antidote and did not need it, than did not have it and lost our healer through Hawke’s mistrust.”

Fenris stared at him for a while then sighed. “If we all survive this, and Isabela doesn’t take anyone’s life in repayment for her suffering, you know he won't want you around.” 

“This I know,” agreed Zevran. “But much water must flow before we reach that day, and I will take comfort in your company whilst I may.” He smiled gently and lifted a hand to forestall Fenris. “I will not goad Hawke. I can be discreet, _carissimi_. But I enjoy being near you.”

“Be that as it may, this voyage is difficult enough without giving Hawke further reason to hate you.” Fenris said quietly before he stepped into Zevran’s space. “I do enjoy you, but this is...what we’ve got, it’s… complicated.” 

Zevran lifted a hand to cup Fenris’ cheek with a warm palm. “Matters of the heart often are, my love,” he said softly. 

“I doubt Vic would be receptive to allowing you to remain with me, even if he and Anders had an interest in you. I do not know if my heart has enough room for all of you without breaking.” Fenris said tiredly.

Zevran pressed a chaste kiss upon Fenris’ forehead. “We must have no breaking of hearts, _carissimi_ ,” he said gently. “I think mine will break enough for both of us when we must go our separate ways.” He lifted his eyes and then he stepped back, his hand falling away as an expression of regret crossed his dusky features. “Ah, and it is time for me to vanish I fear, or that moment will come far sooner than planned.” He turned, setting a booted foot upon the weather rail of the deck and then launching himself up into the rigging, climbing rapidly up into the shrouds overhead and out of view.

Fenris looked up until he couldn’t see the other elf then sighed as he turned back to watch the water go by. He wondered why Zevran felt the need to dash off until he felt Invictus’ arms slide around his waist from behind.

“I was wondering where you were.” Vic said softly. He’d hoped to spend time with his lover while he was awake and upright. It was lonely with Anders sleeping as much as he could, as well as Fenris.

“It worries and unnerves me seeing Anders like that,” said Fenris quietly. “He spends nearly all his time drugged with that potion of his, and it’s like watching a corpse to see him lying there so still. I needed fresh air,” he added.

“I know, hopefully he will be more awake once we are closer and can get off this damned boat.” Vic said as he held Fenris close. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, love,” replied the elf softly. “I am sorry; I have been almost as poor company as Anders. At least those potions he brewed for seasickness seem to be making things a little more bearable, but still I will be glad to set my feet on solid ground again. How much longer?”

“A week, possibly two depending on how much we need to hide our approach into Antiva. No need to alert everyone to our arrival.” Vic said quietly.

Fenris nodded. “We should eat soon,” he said with little enthusiasm. “And attempt to get something into Anders.”

“Yes, hopefully he can be roused more easily this time.” Vic said before he kissed the crown of Fenris’ head and pulled back.

“We can but hope,” sighed Fenris. He gestured for Invictus to lead the way back to the small cabin they all three shared. The elf hadn’t found out yet where the other elf slept; Zevran came and went mysteriously. Sometimes he shared their meals, but more often he did not; the small cabin was cramped enough as it was without adding the tension between Invictus and the Antivan elf.

Hawke slipped his arm around Anders' shoulders and lifted him slightly before he cast a spell to wake him. There was no response at first; the blond mage might have almost seemed dead if not for his slow, almost silent breathing. Then just when Invictus was beginning to wonder if he should try again, Anders frowned slightly before turning his face away a little, giving a small sigh. 

“No... leave me,” he murmured quietly.

“No one is leaving you, come on wake up for us.” Vic pleaded.

Anders opened his eyes; they stared ahead, unfocused. “Why.” His voice was flat.

“We miss you, we need you.” Vic said with a frantic look to Fenris. “What’s wrong?” he asked as he tried to get Anders to focus on them.

Anders closed his eyes as he turned slightly in Invictus’ arms, drawing his knees up slightly as he hunched in on himself. “You don’t need me,” he sighed. “There’s nothing wrong. Just... let me sleep.”

“We do need you.” Fenris said before he reached into his pouch for the vial he’d been given. If Anders didn’t come around in a few minutes, he was going to use the antidote.

Anders opened his eyes again, this time focusing on Fenris. His eyes followed the movement of Fenris’ hand and his frown deepened as he gave a minute shake of his head. “I’m awake,” he said irritably. “Isn’t that enough?”

Fenris cradled the mages face in his hands, his expression tense and worried. “You’re not alright and it’s worrisome. Please, you frighten me when you turn in as I frighten you. Please love, come back to us.” he asked.

Anders’ expression softened, becoming sorrowful. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m here. I just... I don’t particularly want to be, right now. I just want to sleep, without dreams. It’s... more bearable that way.”

“You need food, you need to stretch and walk else you will not be able to do so when we arrive. You reminded me of this. Get up, walk with us.” Vic said as he tried to get Anders to his feet.

Anders let Invictus drag him to his feet and stood there, leaning on the other mage, hanging his head in defeat. “Alright,” he said quietly. “Whatever you want. Only let me sleep again afterwards.”

“No, not whatever I want. You need to eat Anders, and not spend half the trip in a coma.” Vic said as he looped an arm around Anders waist and led him to the Galley.

Fenris shut their door and followed behind the two mages, stopping only to help Anders remain upright while Vic got an order in to the cook. He kept a supportive arm around him while Vic tried to get him to actually eat.

“Please Anders, you told us yourself to do what we needed to make sure you ate, got up and walked around at least twice a week. We’re following your own orders, so please just eat.” Vic begged softly as he looked to the blond mage then his elven lover.

"I'll try," said Anders dispiritedly. "I'm sorry to be such a bother...."

“You’re not a bother, don’t talk like that about yourself.” Fenris said as he nudged a glass of water towards the mage. “Water, you said you should drink plenty of water when you’re awake.” the elf reminded him.

Anders took the glass and sipped slowly. "Everything just feels grey," he said quietly. "I can't really explain it."

“Like you’re in a daze, nothing seems right or worth it to even open your eyes?” Fenris ventured, as he knew what that felt like all too well. 

Anders nodded. "Just like that," he agreed then sighed softly. "Easier to just sleep without dreams."

“You have to find a point Anders, find a point and follow it to the end. It’s too easy to give in to that feeling, believe me, I know.” Fenris told him as he fought the urge to coddle Anders and keep him safe from his own thoughts.

Hawke sat across from them at the ready to help, but this was more Fenris’ area of expertise. He’d never suffered as they had and his own upbringing would bring neither man comfort.

"But there's nothing for me anymore," said Anders. "I gave my all for the freedom of mages but... the drive all came from Justice, and since he was taken from me it's though all my drive was taken with him. There's... nothing left for me, and I don't know what I'm doing anymore."

“You have me, you have Vic, a home now. Your clinic, there is so, so much for you to do Anders. We brought you because you are a damned good healer, and I feel better knowing you are here with us. There’s so much to do love, please don’t talk as if your life is over, it’s far from it.” Fenris tipped his face so he looked into the amber eyes of his other lover. 

The vacancy, the glassiness he saw made his fear spike as there was no kind of emotion he could find there. “Anders, you’re important to us. We need you, but you need to come back to yourself. Please, love.” Fenris added as he hoped for some spark of anger, happiness, something to flare in the other man's eyes.

But only hopelessness was in the gaze Anders returned. "I don't even truly know who I am now," he said quietly. "Justice has been a part of me so long, I just...." He dropped his head into his hands and began to quietly sob brokenly. "I miss him," he moaned. "And Merrill. And... I just wish everything were over."

That made Fenris’ eyes widen in alarm, he knew what Anders meant and it scared him. He pulled the taller man into his arms and spoke quietly to him in Tevene. “You are loved, you are special, you are needed. We would miss you so much Anders, please, please...don’t, don’t go down that road. I’ve been there, and the end is brutal.” the elf pulled away and stared at Vic, his eyes panicked.

Vic came around and embraced Anders as well, his voice low and soothing as he reassured the former warden he was needed and wanted. “I’m a better man because of you, I love you, we both love you, please Anders don’t do this.” he pleaded.

Anders slumped between them and hung his head. "I'm sorry," he moaned. "I'm just being a worry to you both."

“No, no...you’re not. You need help love, and we’re going to give it to you.” Fenris said softly. “I’ve been down this path, I know how it is and I won’t let you go there too. This ship isn’t helping, all the sleeping you’re doing can’t be good for you. Come on, let’s get some food in you then we’ll walk around the deck. Get some sun before it sets.” the elf practically pleaded with Anders as they sat there in a tangle.

Anders nodded in resignation. "Alright," he said without enthusiasm, surrendering what little fight he had left in him. He lifted his head a little as the cook slid a bowl of stew and a hunk of bread in front of him. 

He gave a little sigh, picked up the spoon and slowly began to eat without enthusiasm, choking the food down as best he could.

Fenris frowned at how Anders ate just to appease them, not because he wanted to. He held his hand over the mage’s arm before he could take another bite. “Stop, just...eat because you want to. Not because we asked you to.” he tipped the mages face back to him and gazed into his eyes. “Anders, please let us help you but don’t simply give in to what we want. That’s not helping yourself.” 

Anders shook his head. "I asked you to make sure I ate because I knew this would happen," he said. "I have no appetite but my body still needs the food. I don't want to eat but if I don't...." He sighed.

Fenris withdrew his hand, but let it rest on Anders’ thigh instead. “Do what you need, but not appease either of us.” 

“I’ll get us something else to drink, can you manage some tea if I get it?” Vic asked of his mage lover.

Anders nodded silently as he carried on eating the stew. He prodded unidentifiable lumps of what might have been vegetables, his expression unreadable as he reached for the bread.

Fenris merely sat with him, a silent sentinel as he watched Anders eat and drink with no joy, none of the pleasure he usually took in the meals shared at home. The food on the ship wasn’t great but it was better than he’d expected. It saddened him to see Anders brought so low.

Vic sipped his tea as he sat across from them and took his cues from Fenris on what to do for Anders.

Anders finished the bread and stew then cradled the mug of tea between his hands before sipping slowly.

“Want to take a walk with me?” Fenris asked quietly as he watched Anders closely.

Anders shrugged. "If you like," he said quietly.

“No, if you like.” Fenris insisted.

Anders finished his tea then put the mug down, staring at it. Then he shrugged again, slumped between his two partners.

Vic came over and helped Anders up with a quiet plea. “We’d like to spend time with you while you’re awake, and you need to walk off the stiffness from sleeping for so long.” 

Anders let himself be drawn along by the stronger mage. He walked listlessly between his two loves, but when they got up on deck and he felt the sea breeze stir his dishevelled hair he lifted his head and stared out over the grey rolling waves, drawing a deep breath. 

He stepped over to the rail and stared out at the sea and sky. Though his expression was still sad, a look of peace dawned in his amber eyes.

Fenris leaned against him gently, hopeful he’d reach out to touch one or both of them on his own.

Vic stared out over the water, his gaze troubled as he watched the water settle in the ships wake.

"Is that... Nevarra?" asked Anders, gesturing towards a low blue smudge on the horizon off the port bow. 

“I’m not sure, I’ve not seen it from the water. Only land as I traveled through.” Fenris replied quietly.

"I've never seen it before," said Anders as he stared at the blue smudge. "I never got this far on any of my escapes." He rested his hands on the rail as he leaned forward, eyes on that hint of distant land.

“Maybe we can go one day, take a real holiday.” Vic said wisftully. “Maybe leave it all behind, just run away from Kirkwall and start over far from there.” 

Anders leaned further over the rail, dropping his gaze to the grey waters as they rolled past the bow. "Wherever you go, there'll always be templars," he said hollowly.

“Don’t remind me.” Vic uttered dejectedly. “I know I only run free on Meredith’s whim. It’s just a fantasy, it’s not like I can escape what I am no matter how far I go.” 

“Vic, not helping.” Fenris hissed at him from behind Anders back. 

"It would be so easy," murmured Anders very softly to himself as he stared at the cold waves.

“Ok, let’s get away from the railing and find somewhere to get some sun that’s not a few feet from icy cold death.” Fenris said as he pulled Anders back from the rail. If the mage jumped it would be like hitting stone with the speed they were going. With the heavy layers of his robe and coat, the mage would sink instantly.

Anders let himself be pulled away without a word, glancing away. He stared at the wooden deck, making no effort to resist as Fenris and Hawke guided him away from the rail.

Fenris found a spot where they could sit and get some sun without entertaining ideas of falling to their doom. He watched as Vic offered Anders his chest for a pillow and held the blond mage in his arms. 

Anders willingly lay back against Invictus, then glanced to Fenris and held a hand out to the elf.

Fenris took his hand with a smile, glad the blond was actively seeking their touch.

Anders closed his eyes, his hand cold in Fenris' warm brown hand. The wind stirring his hair was comforting, as was the beat of Invictus' heart beneath his ear and the reassuring press of Fenris' fingers against his own. He wondered if he would be allowed to drift into a natural sleep, held by his loves like this.

But then he might dream, and he wasn't sure he wanted that. But the potion was back in the cabin.

Maybe he wouldn't dream.

Fenris curled against both mages, his mind settling from the panic that stirred by Anders words. “Thank you for coming up on deck with us, this is nice.” the elf murmured.

Vic held Anders close to him, his hands clasped over the other man’s middle. “We’ve got you,” 

"Don't let me dream," murmured Anders softly. He turned his head a little.

High above, Zevran sat upon the mains' l crossbrace near the rigging, watching the three men silently. He felt cold, but it had nothing to do with the stiff sea breeze. He tossed his blond hair out of his face as he stretched out on the wooden spar and watched them, all three men oblivious to his eyes upon them.

He ignored the odd pang inside, dismissing it merely as concern for the blond mage. He had sympathy for Anders. It was not easy to find a new reason for living when you had lost your way as the blond apostate had done.

“We’ll try, but if you can rest naturally do so.” Fenris whispered as he lifted Anders arm so he could lay against the mage’s side. “We love you and need you.”

“Yes, yes we do.” agreed Invictus as he gave Anders a gentle squeeze then closed his eyes as well, content to hold the other mage as they basked in the afternoon sun.

Anders opened his eyes briefly and found himself staring straight at the Antivan elf high above them, amber eyes meeting bright gold. Zevran regarded him for a moment then silently nodded and lifted one hand in salute.

Anders closed his eyes, unconcerned by the former Crow's watchful presence. He relaxed against his two lovers and presently he began to drift towards sleep.

Fenris was asleep and snoring quietly almost as soon as Anders arm had slackened around his shoulders. 

Invictus didn’t sleep, but he did look up to the sky and spotted the former Crow. He merely scowled at him, as he was unwilling to dislodge the two men nestled against him. 

Zevran lay upon the broad wooden spar, resting his cheek upon his folded hands as he regarded the three men. He considered climbing down to talk to Invictus but remembered the last time he'd tried polite conversation with the Champion. If he squinted out of the corner of his eye he could just about make out the singed bit of hair he'd retained as a memento of that little exchange.

Except with his arms around the sleeping apostate and elf, perhaps Invictus was too preoccupied to loose lightning bolts at annoying Antivan elves.

Vic scowled as he watched Zevran climb down and approach him. Both his lovers were sleeping on their own and he wouldn’t wake them to speak with the assassin.

Zevran sat down upon the deck a little way apart from the three men. "It is good you got him on deck. The shadows are no place for him in this frame of mind," he said quietly.

“Wake them up and I’ll toss you over the rail.” Vic replied as quietly as he could, his expression quickly turned murderous as he looked at the blond elf.

Zevran glanced down at his polished boots, brushing off some infinitesimal speck of dust. "That would be unfortunate; I am sure it would ruin my leather boots," he said. "They are most magnificent boots, yes?" He smiled companionably at Hawke. "I will not wake them."

“What do you want, I was having a nice moment here. I don’t need or want you ruining it assassin.” Vic hissed as quietly as he could manage. He felt his power trying to surge up and out but he held himself in check since that would wake Fenris and upset Anders, which he didn’t want.

Zevran regarded Invictus steadily. "You do not like me very much. I remind you of things you have done you would sooner forget."

“I just fucking hate your face, and you. Did you actually want something, or are you simply taking advantage of the fact I can’t move without waking them up to irritate me again?” Vic snarled, his temper was rising despite his promise to rein it in.

"Easy," said Zevran quietly. "Anders needs to sleep." He sighed quietly. "It is not good for this hatred to fester. I do not wish to be your enemy, Hawke; that was never my intention. We will be in each other’s company for a while yet and our lives may depend upon us trusting one another. If not for my sake, then perhaps that of Anders and Fenris, can we not try to put this enmity aside?"

Vic’s eyes narrowed and he had to force himself to remain still instead of jumping up to wring the elf’s neck. “One more fucking word to me and I will kill you, I don’t need your sermons Crow. I know exactly what I’ve done and what I need to do to rectify it. Do not act as if you’re doing this out of the goodness of your heart. Just stop fucking talking to me, especially of how I should feel about you.”

Zevran opened his mouth as if to speak, then sighed, dropping his gaze to the deck. "As you wish," he said softly, a note of resignation in his voice.

Vic continued to glare at him as if he could make the elf leave them by will alone. When he remained he snarled at him. “Fucking leave, what else is it you want? Or was that not clear enough of a message that you aren’t wanted here?”

“I want a truce between us. I wish to be able to speak without fear of dodging lightning bolts, to offer assistance without having to fear retribution. I have not offered you violence once, Hawke, and my conduct towards you has been honourable. Does that count for nothing?” The elf raised his head. “You are a man of action, Invictus Hawke. I had hoped to show by my own actions that I mean you no harm, but perhaps I truly am wasting both your time and my own.” His eyes regarded the Champion with regret. 

“You think I’m stupid enough to trust someone who bested his own Crow Master?” Vic wanted to laugh but he held it in. Instead his eyes glittered with something dangerous as he spoke slowly and softly so he would not wake his lovers. 

“You goaded me at every turn at the estate, you take advantage even now to force me to listen to you or else rouse Fenris and Anders from the first real sleep they’ve had since we started this---” Vic’s next words were muffled by Fenris’ hand over his mouth.

“Stop, both of you, This is tiresome and I am irritated by your bickering. Be grateful Anders sleeps as one nearly dead, else you’d have woken him as well.” Fenris said in Tevene, his hand fell from Vic’s lips and he glared at both men with annoyance.

Zevran dropped his eyes to the wooden deck. “My apologies, Fenris,” he said quietly. “I did not mean to disturb you.” He rose to his feet and turned away.

“I will return, make sure Anders isn’t disturbed while I speak with Zevran.” Fenris said as he gently pulled himself from Vic’s grasp, a small shake of his head as he rose and tapped the other elf on the shoulder to indicate they should move away to speak.

Zevran glanced at Fenris then inclined his head and gestured for the taller elf to lead the way.

As they moved away from Invictus and the sleeping blond apostate, Zevran sighed voicelessly.

“I know. I should not have attempted to speak to him. I apologise,” he said quietly. 

Fenris stopped and turned to face Zevran, his face drawn in a scowl. “Why Zevran? Why do you continue to try and change his mind about you? He does not care to forgive you and frankly, if you keep trying, keep pushing I might not be able to stop him from lashing out. Why are you so damned intent on getting him to, do whatever it is you are looking for him to do?”

Zevran turned aside and leaned on the railing, staring out at the sea. “We will be disembarking in Antiva soon. My enemies may be waiting for me there. Should we find ourselves under attack, we need to be certain we can depend upon each other in combat; our very lives will depend upon it. I merely wish an end to these hostilities for the sake of our safety.” He lowered his head. “And... perhaps I am tired of being the target of vitriol and hate in my every waking moment. After a lifetime of being resented and despised, perhaps even I have had enough.”

“I can’t believe I am going to say this, but try to see it from his side. Humor me, for a moment. If you were on thin ice with your lovers, you’d been given an ultimatum to get your shit together, and you hadn’t even had a full day to recover from traveling between worlds before someone whose appearance meant your demise could be at hand showed up; how would you feel towards them? Just, think for a moment, please.” Fenris said as he watched Zevran ponder his request.

“Between worlds?” Zevran frowned slightly. “Ah. The mirror-Kirkwall you both spoke of before, with the other Hawke - the one who looks like Anders? Forgive me, I had no idea,” he said after a moment. “No wonder you all seemed so dismayed at my appearance. My timing was not my own choice, alas.” He nodded slowly. “I... understand, at least a little. Of this ultimatum you mention, I had no idea nor any way of knowing however.”

Fenris folded his arms and sighed. “It is not something I should tell you of, lest you bring it up and Vic gets rightfully angry at me over discussing our affairs. Just suffice to say, things were not ideal before your arrival, and unfortunately, your appearance has not helped things get resolved.”

The taller Tevinter elf looked to him sadly. “To say your appearance was poorly timed is a severe understatement. My own concerns about returning to Seheron, added to the troubles among the three of us, Anders seeming intention of collapsing in on himself and fear over what we will face in Seheron itself has us all at our worst. So understand that under normal circumstances, maybe Vic would be open to your attempts. Right now, he just wants this done and you gone.”

“Much is now clear to me,” Zevran said quietly. “Forgive me. I did not mean to add to your troubles.” He straightened. “I shall endeavour to keep out of his way as much as is possible on a ship this size. And... I shall hold my tongue, at least for a time.”

“Try to just...not make it worse. Hawke wants to live through this, I want to live through this. But know he’s not going to have your back in Antiva, I will, Anders will but do not expect him to care or want to help you, even if I beg and plead with him. So if there is anyone seeking you there, come to me or to Anders.” Fenris pulled him into an embrace so he could speak privately in Tevinter to the other elf.

“Be careful, Hawke is dangerous even when he is calm. Do not think he will simply stand aside because I request it. I fear he resents your presence and won’t hesitate to remove you from the equation once she’s back with you.” Fenris stepped back and smoothed the other elf’s jerkin down with an awkward smile.

“I have not thought much further than her safe retrieval and averting any attempt at revenge upon her part,” confessed Zevran as he stared down at Fenris’ fingers upon his jerkin.

“I know, just be aware this could get much worse before it gets better.” Fenris said before he stepped away to return to his lovers. Zevran watched him go, then turned back to the rail to stare out at the cold grey waves.

Fenris knelt down by his mages and caressed Vic’s face with a sad look. “We should get some dinner before Anders doses himself again. I worry about what he’s said today, and the way he looked at the water with such longing to leap to his end.” the elf said quietly.

“He woke up briefly when you left, so I doubt he’s fully asleep now.” Invictus replied as he nudged at Anders to rise. 

Anders opened his eyes, blinking as he glanced around. “Hmm? Whu?” he said helpfully.

“Come, the sun is starting to set and we should have dinner before you find sleep in a potion bottle again.” Vic said quietly. 

“I was dreaming,” said Anders as he got to his feet with help from Fenris. “I was in my bedroom at the Keep with Ser Pounce-a-lot.” He looked a little wistful. “I miss Pounce. And Lady. I know it was best to leave her behind with Sandal though.”

“She’ll be fine and happy to see you when we get home.” Invictus replied. 

Anders nodded morosely. “I didn’t really want to wake up,” he admitted quietly. “Except I knew you would worry even more.”

“Come on, food will help you and maybe we can chat for a bit before you fall asleep again?” Fenris said. 

“I guess,” said Anders. “I’m really not hungry but I should probably eat anyway.”

“Yes you should, you’ll be too weak when you have to wake up once we can finally get off this boat.” Invictus chimed in. Almost on cue, Anders stumbled, clutching at Fenris’ shoulder.

The elf caught him and slid his arm around the mage’s waist. “You will eat, I could likely carry you over my shoulder with no effort.” Fenris groused as he helped Anders back to the same seat he had before.

“I’d rather you didn’t try,” replied Anders with a groan as he put a hand to his head. “I feel dizzy enough as it is.”

“I’m not going to do that to you. But I am going to make sure you get some food into you.” Fenris muttered as Vic requested food for them. He reached up to massage the back of Anders’ neck and head, hopeful it would help him feel better.

Anders rested his hands on the table and dropped his head down with a groan. “If you want me to fall asleep again, you’re going the right way about it,” he muttered. He turned his head slightly. “Fenris,” he asked quietly. “Has Zevran been eating?”

“If he has, I’ve never seen him in here. But I’ve also been sleeping a lot myself.” the elf said evasively. 

“I’ve seen him once, but he didn’t stay, just took a mug and left for whatever it is he does when he’s---” he stopped and hissed at the feel of being kicked under the table. “Once, just once.” Vic amended as he rubbed his leg and glared at Fenris.

Anders didn’t notice the brief altercation between his two lovers; his gaze was distracted. “I hope he’s getting enough to eat,” he said quietly. “It sounded to me like he was expecting trouble when we get to Antiva; he’ll need his strength and his wits about him.”

“I’m sure he’s fine Anders, he doesn’t strike me as the type to deprive himself of meals or sleep.” Fenris said as he pulled his hands away and nudged Anders to sit up. “Besides, you should be more concerned with your own health and welfare.” 

Anders straightened and gave a small shrug. 

“Don’t shrug at me, and don’t evade the fact you haven’t eaten a full meal really since you’ve dosed yourself every couple of days with your potion. You already look like a corpse when you’re under it’s influence, I’d rather you not take too much and become one.” Fenris replied, his tone worried as he looked down at the table. 

Anders opened his mouth to apologise again but said nothing, instead pulling his arms back off the table to wrap around his stomach instead as he hunched over, uncomfortable beneath their concerned stares. “I’ll eat,” he said quietly.  
“Good.” Fenris said softly. 

Vic ate quietly, his glance going between the elf and mage until he’d finished his own meal.

Anders ate his meal slowly, without enthusiasm, his head bowed over his bowl as he worked his way through the stew. he was the last to finish, and he squirmed uncomfortably under their stares as he laid down the spoon, his own eyes lowered.

Fenris leaned over and kissed Anders on the cheek and smiled. “Thank you love, I know that was difficult.”

Anders looked up and managed a small, wan smile. “I think I need some fresh air,” he said, his voice a little uncertain as he glanced towards the door. “Could we... go up on deck again please? It feels too... enclosed down here. Stuffy.”

“Of course.” Fenris and Invictus said before they rose and went back up top. Anders closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the cool evening air as they emerged on deck, his face pale. 

“How much longer will it be before we make landfall?” he asked Invictus.

“At best, another week. At worst, two. Considering our speed and that we’ve had a relatively smooth trip so far, I’d estimate a week. I can confirm with the captain in the morning.” Vic answered, his gaze on the dark water as they all enjoyed fresh air for a change.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders has a revelation, Fenris gives Anders what he wants, Vic can't control his jealousy and Zevran knows when to stay out of the way. How long until they land in Antiva?

“A week?” exclaimed Anders in dismay. He pulled away from them both and headed towards the nearest rail.

“No, no you are not getting near any railings. Not as long as you keep looking at the water like that.” Fenris got in front of Anders and kept him from going to the edge. Anders clutched at Fenris, panting. 

“I am going to be sick,” he said quietly, enunciating carefully as he stared over the elf’s shoulder fixedly at the rail. “You can get out of my way or I can throw up on you. Your choice.”

“I’m holding your belt.” Fenris muttered as he moved to let Anders sick up over the railing.

Anders ignored him, too preoccupied with the heaving of his stomach to notice. He clawed at his hair with one hand whilst he braced himself against the wooden rail with the other, retching. After a few minutes he sagged against the rail. “Hate ships,” he mumbled.

Vic came over and held his hair back in an attempt to soothe the blond mage. “None of us like them, I’m sorry we had to do this.” he muttered before he turned to Fenris.   
“I’ll get some water and mint for Anders, stay with him please?” 

“Of course.” replied the elf as he rubbed circles on Anders back, and tried to soothe him.

“I’m sorry,” Anders muttered. “The cabin... it’s so claustrophobic, I don’t deal well in enclosed places. Last time I was on a ship, I was trying to get out of Ferelden along with what seemed to be half the Free Marches. Spent the whole time sick as a dog, stuck in a tiny corner, afraid to use magic in case someone denounced me to the templars on board or that someone would know I was a Grey Warden and a deserter. I’d only just joined with Justice and it was... very confusing, overwhelming, dealing with everything.”

“It’s fine, we shouldn’t have pushed you so hard.” Fenris replied. “I don’t like ships either, thus why I have tried to sleep as much as possible.”

Anders ran his hands through his wind-tangled hair and exhaled slowly. “I’d almost managed to forget how I felt the last time. Has it really been two weeks already? I’m not sure how I’m going to handle another week of this.”

“With us, together we’ll get through it. We have to, our survival depends on it.” Fenris said as he put his arm around Anders and held him close. 

Vic cleared his throat and passed the former warden a water skin and mint leaves to chew on. “Hopefully that helps.”

Anders rested his head on Fenris’ shoulder as he took the skin and the mint leaves. “I’ve been utterly useless thus far,” he sighed. He sipped a little of the water then began to chew the mint leaves.

“Not much to do until we make land, might as well enjoy this while we can. I’m sure you’ll be cursing my name as we run for our lives through the jungle soon enough.” Vic said tiredly.

“Invictus, really?” Fenris muttered as he glared at his lover. 

Anders swallowed down the leaves with another mouthful of water. “I’d sooner sleep my way through the whole damned voyage, frankly,” he said. “At least the time passes quicker that way.” He leaned back against the rail, shaking his head as he grimaced.

Vic shrugged and stared out at the water. “It won’t make it any less true Fenris. I’m going to lay down, you two should stay out here, get some air since you’ve been out of it for most of the voyage.” 

“I’d sooner go back to sleep myself, except I don’t think I can face that cabin again just yet,” admitted Anders.

“Then let us enjoy each other’s company a bit longer.” Fenris offered.

Anders shrugged. “I’m not particularly good company right now,” he said quietly. “But if you think you can tolerate me in this mood....”

“Don’t...I get enough of that from Invictus.” Fenris snapped before he caught himself. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snarl at you. I’m just sick of Vic and Zevran being at each other’s throats every time I turn around. This trip already has me on edge, apologies love.”

Anders had flinched at the sharpness of the elf’s tone, and he hung his head, hunching over slightly. “I’m sorry,” he said miserably. “I just can’t seem to shake this mood. It all seems utterly hopeless. The only reason I’m here is because I was more afraid of what might happen to one of you if I didn’t come than out of any real feeling I’m actually needed.” He slid down to sit upon the deck, legs stretched out in front of him, his back to the rail. “I don’t know how to get out of this pit I’m stuck in, Fenris,” he admitted. 

Fenris dropped down next to him and took Anders hand in his to comfort the mage. “Why would you think we don’t need you?” 

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I just feel useless. Without purpose or a reason for existing. It’s strange, I never felt the lack before Justice. I was... well, not carefree, exactly, but I got by pretty much without really thinking too much about things. But now... it’s like Justice opened my eyes to something I was lacking, filled that hole - and then was ripped away, leaving this gaping wound in me I never knew was there. And now all I can see is how empty I’ve been all along.”

Fenris straddled Anders so he could look into the mage’s eyes as he spoke. “Listen to me, you are anything but useless. You are needed, wanted, loved. Do you think I’d trust anyone else with my life? That I’d give you my heart if you were not wanted in our lives? Losing your spirit should not mean that we lose you as well.” 

Anders’ eyes widened slightly as he suddenly found his lap full of very intense elf. He instinctively tried to pull back slightly but was brought up short by the hard wooden rail against the back of his head as he stared into those impossibly-green eyes. His amber gaze softened as he stared back, and he lifted one hand slowly to stroke the side of Fenris’ face.

“That... that’s the first time you’ve ever referred to Justice as anything other than a demon, love,” he said softly. “And yet... it’s true, isn’t it? I’ve lost my spirit. The... the _me_. I shouldn’t have survived when Justice was torn away from me, and yet I did. Somehow I’ve gone on living, breathing, existing, without knowing why. Maybe the answer was there in front of me all along....”

“If you had no spirit at all, you should not be here. You are still Anders, you are just without your extra...passenger.” Fenris said as he leaned into the mages touch.

Anders leaned closer to the elf, his eyes fluttering closed as he tilted his face until their lips lightly brushed.

The elven fighter opened his mouth, pleased the mage was doing something of his own volition. He gripped the railing as he was kissed slow and deep. Anders drew back for breath with a small whimper before reaching for the elf again; Fenris could feel tears upon the blond apostate’s cheeks as Anders kissed him a second time.

Fenris pulled back for air and to wipe the other man’s tears away. “Why are you crying?”

“I don’t know,” said Anders, his breath hitching. “I just... I can’t seem to stop.” He blinked then bit his lip. “Hold me... kiss me?” he pleaded.

“Of course.” Fenris molded himself against Anders and traded kisses slowly, with no hurry to move from where he was perched on top of the mage’s hips, his eyes fluttered closed as they sat there for what felt like hours until he needed to breathe. “Sorry, needed air.”

Anders gasped and panted. “Lightheaded... myself,” he managed after a moment. He clumsily wiped at his wet cheeks with the back of his hand then stared up at Fenris, his eyes a little unfocused.

“What do you need? What can I do for you love? Fenris asked quietly as he sat there, very aware of a hardness against him but not willing to push for more than Anders might want.

Anders shifted slightly, pinned down by the elf’s weight. He glanced around them briefly. “Not... here, too open. Is there somewhere...?” he began hesitantly, before he stared back at the elf. “Somewhere more private? I... I really want you to fuck me,” he added in a low whisper.

“There’s our room, the store room...I’ve been there at times to get away from the noise of the ship. I was hoping maybe you’d want a turn, taking me for a change.” Fenris said with a devilish gleam in his eyes.

Anders shook his head. “I don’t think I can, love, at least - not just now. I just... I just need you to take me, so I don’t have to _think_ for a little while - just... just... please, love,” Anders begged. “I don’t care where, I just don’t want anyone tripping over us. We... we probably should let Hawke sleep. Unless you think he would want...?”

“Not sure, and honestly I wouldn’t mind a tumble with you all to myself.” Fenris said as he rose and held his hand out for Anders to be led away. Anders let himself be pulled to his feet and followed willingly, not caring where the elf took him. 

Fenris led them to a store room that wasn’t frequented by the crew in evening hours. The elf had spent a few evenings to himself so he knew he wouldn’t be disturbed, though he’d nearly found a couple crew members blowing off steam the last time he’d come down. Satisfied they wouldn’t be disturbed, he pulled Anders down to him for a hard kiss before he urged the mage to free him from his pants so he could take him.

Anders’ hands trembled as he fumbled with the lacings of the elf’s pants, dropping to his knees in front of Fenris as he freed the elf’s member then bent forward to take Fenris’ cock into his mouth even as he hastily unlaced his own pants, pushing them down to his knees. He worked Fenris’ hot flesh with his tongue and lips as his head drew back then plunged down again, swallowing around Fenris’ cock whilst he called up a handful of slick, reaching behind himself to start working two fingers in and out of his own entrance, preparing himself.

“Slow down, I don’t want to hurt you.” Fenris gasped as he tried to kick his pants free. His hands slipped into the dark blond strands and guided his motions with pants and moans of the mage’s name.

Anders pulled back slightly, enough to stare up into Fenris’ eyes, his own amber gaze glazed and unfocused as he ground back onto his own hand, forcing a third finger inside as he groaned, his lips swollen and reddened around Fenris’ cock. His cheeks were flushed, sweat beading his brow.

Fenris pulled back and nudged Anders up to his feet with a growl. “Over that barrel, now.”

Anders shoved his pants down further to his calves then turned and bent over the barrel, hitching his robes up around his waist as he spread his legs. He tucked one arm back against the small of his back, palm uppermost as he conjured up more slick, bracing himself against the barrel with the other hand.

The elf took the slick from his palm, stroked himself until he was covered before he spread Anders’ legs further and slipped only the head in and stopped. “Are you mine?” Fenris growled in his ear, his tone possessive as he waited for an answer.

Anders gasped then keened faintly in the back of his throat, trying to push back onto Fenris’ cock. “Yes, yes, please,” he begged.

“Good…boy.” Fenris hissed before he slammed into Anders and stroked hard, fast and deep into the blond human. The elven warrior growled in his ear, low and menacing in time with his thrusts...“Mine, all mine.” 

Anders cried out as he felt the elf slam home into his flesh, the slick not quite enough to ease the burn as he was filled and pounded hard. “Yes... yours,” he managed to gasp, panting between each thrust. He clutched the barrel as he felt it shift slightly with each hard thrust, and he dropped his head down until he felt the hard iron rim of the barrel cold against his throat. “H-harder,” he begged as he pulled his other hand free and reached down to fist his own cock.

Fenris obliged him, slamming against the mage until both man and barrel nearly toppled over with each thrust. “Missed...this so much.” he gasped as he felt himself getting close to climax with each thrust.

Anders closed his eyes as he gave himself up to the sensations of being filled, taken, hard and deep. He angled his hips a little, arching his back until each thrust grazed his sweet spot inside, throat pressed hard against the barrel edge, and he cried out with each thrust - small, breathy cries, cresting closer and closer to his own orgasm with each thrust as heat built and coiled in his groin, growing lightheaded. All thought had fled from his mind; he was aware only of here, now, the smell of leather, metal, wood and sex heavy in his nostrils.

“Close...can’t go this hard… for long.” Fenris moaned in his ear. “Love...you.” he gasped before he lost his rhythm as he tried to hold back so Anders could tip over first.

Anders fisted his own cock harder, on the edge of his climax, and then he was coming, his spend hot and wet over his hand as he shuddered and jerked, his body clenching around the cock deep inside him as he closed his eyes tight, crying out hoarsely before he slumped over the barrel.

The elven fighter groaned as he felt himself tense in that moment before your muscles released and the sweet release hit him. He laid his head against Anders back and panted as he tried to get his breathing under control. “Feel better?” he wheezed.

He could feel Anders’ heart racing as the blond apostate gasped for breath. His only answer was a faint moan and a slight nod of the dark blond head. Anders had collapsed over the barrel, his knees giving way in the aftermath of his orgasm, head hanging over the edge of the barrel, one hand trailing limply towards the floor.

“Good, because I don’t think I could give a repeat performance right now.” he muttered before he tried to stand up and failed miserably. “Floor, get on floor.” Fenris muttered.

Anders tried to speak but his mouth felt dry and parched. He tried to swallow and coughed, half-choked by the iron rim of the barrel. He managed to twitch a hand feebly, lacking the energy to move even if he weren’t still pinned by the elf sprawled across his back, still buried inside him. He felt a little sore, bruised, and utterly drained and yet strangely peaceful despite the hollow emptiness inside. He doubted it would last long - it rarely had back in the Circle, after all - but for now he was content to lie there and not think at all, merely exist in the moment.

Fenris managed to pull them both to the surprisingly smooth floor of the store room and wrap his arms around the mage. He kissed Anders gently and smiled at him, tired from their romp. “You wore me out too, I was hoping…” his words dropped off and he kissed the blond instead, sure that even if they both weren’t exhausted, Anders wouldn’t be in the mood for what he wanted.

Anders was content to lie there in the elf’s arms. He could feel bruises blossoming upon his hips where they had rammed repeatedly into the heavy wooden barrel and across his throat, but he couldn’t be bothered to muster the healing energy to dispel them. He felt himself drifting in a warm haze, and realised he was on the verge of slipping into sleep.

“Safe here?” he managed to slur.

“Yes, we’re safe. I’ve got you, just sleep.” Fenris said as he held Anders to him, his own eyes fluttered closed and soon he was snoring peacefully alongside his lover.

Neither man was aware when the storeroom door opened and a slender form slipped inside then halted before it could stumble over them. The figure crouched down and peered at the two unconscious men, taking in how the sleeping elf was naked from the waist down and the unconscious mage’s pants were still pooled around his calves, his robes bunched up around his waist.

Zevran chuckled wryly as he regarded them both, shaking his head. He shook out the blanket folded in his arms and carefully draped it over both the sleeping men.

“Sleep well, my friends,” he whispered as he backed silently away. 

He closed the door silently behind himself. He would have to find somewhere else to sleep tonight.

Fenris rolled over and muttered something in Tevinter and flapped his legs as he realized something was covering him that wasn’t there when they’d fallen asleep. He sat up and picked at the blanket, unsure who would have covered them and left. Anders slept on, oblivious, his body exhausted and craving true sleep after so long in drugged slumber without dreams.

Fenris shrugged and laid back down, sure it was either Hawke or Zevran that had covered them so. None of the men on the ship would have bothered. He curled closer to Anders and went back to the first natural sleep he’d had since their voyage began.

It was late morning the next day before Fenris woke again, the sounds of sailors going about their duties finally breaking through the haze of dreams and dragging him back to waking once more. Anders was still asleep in his arms, colour in his cheeks for the first time in what seemed weeks, his face peaceful and untroubled, all the lines of care smoothed by sleep as the mage dreamed.

Fenris leaned in and kissed his forehead. “Wake up love, it’s morning.”

Anders murmured something in his sleep, rolling over to bury his face against the elf’s chest before stilling with a faint sigh.

“I hate to wake you but we need to get cleaned up and have breakfast. I’m hungry, and sore.” Fenris said softly as he nuzzled against the dark blond hair. “Maybe you could take me for a spin after you eat?” he asked hopefully.

Still more than half asleep, Anders fumbled a hand free to press it clumsily against Fenris’ chest, and then a moment later the elf felt the soothing touch of healing magic flowing comfortingly through his body, easing the aches and pains of the previous evening before Anders pulled his hand away.

“Not quite the touch I was hoping for.” Fenris said with a smile. “Come sleepy, I’m sure you’re hungry as well.”

Anders opened his eyes and glanced up. “I was dreaming, I think,” he said softly. “Can’t remember what though.” He glanced around. “Don’t remember this blanket?”

“Either Hawke or Zevran must have come in when we slept.” Fenris said as he sat forward and grimaced at the mess on both of them. “Next time, one of us should think to grab a flannel. First, wash up then food.” the elf said as he stood up and looked for his pants.

Anders sat up and rubbed his throat with a faint grimace of pain. He could feel the line of a bruise across his throat where he’d been pressed against the barrel rim.

“Maybe do something about your bruises? I don’t want anyone to think I’d tried to strangle you in here.” Fenris said as he laced his pants with a slight sigh. Anders nodded as a blue glow suffused his hand, the mage setting about healing himself of the bruises on his body and the ache inside.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you.” Fenris said as he watched Anders work to heal himself.

Anders shook his head. “It doesn’t matter; I needed it,” he shrugged. “Sometimes I just need a little rough hard treatment to take myself out of my own head for a while.” He smiled a little ruefully. “This was nothing compared to some of the things I begged Karl to do to me after my year in solitary.”

Fenris’ hands stilled as he folded the blanket. “What sorts of things?” he asked, expression intense and focused on the mage.

Anders’ eyes were on his hands as he pulled up his pants. “He would tie me up with my hands behind my back, palms pressed together between my shoulderblades. He’d gag me and then he’d use lightning on me - not just a little spark of electricity, but a strong enough bolt to make everything white out for a moment,” he said quietly. “Or I’d beg him to choke me slowly. Sometimes he’d tie just my wrists to the bedframe and then pierce my nipples with small needles... the feeling was....” He let out a shaky laugh. 

“The body has some weird and wonderful ways of handling pain, as I’m sure you’ve noticed,” he said softly. “Too much can be unbearable, but just the right amount and the body floods itself with endorphins. Done in the right way, I just... drop into this whole different headspace where I’m not really thinking consciously any more. A sort of trance state. It’s... I can’t describe it,” he sighed, shaking his head. “When it was particularly bad though, Karl would take me into it and... it helped.”

“I… see.” Fenris said shakily. His gaze was locked to Anders, his pale, slender throat, then down to his wrists, his mind supplying how he’d look bound, helpless beneath him. “We will have a long conversation when we’ve gotten home.” the elf finally said in a rasp.

Anders lifted his head slowly, regarding the elf nervously as his fingers played with the edge of his robes. “We... we don’t have to do any of that stuff,” he said slowly. “I just... it’s OK to play a little rough with me sometimes and not worry quite so much about hurting me, is all.” He watched the elf anxiously, afraid that Fenris might be freaked out by his admission.

“I want to...all of it.” Fenris said with a purr to his voice that he hoped Anders figured out he wanted to play rough with him. “I miss it...being, like that. I’d rather that with you, because you want it than being used as a dumping ground for your guilt. If I wasn’t starved, I’d throw you over that barrel again right now.” his breathing was fast, his heart felt like it was going to hammer out of his chest as he imagined all he wanted to do with and to the blond.

“Y-you do?” whispered Anders. He got slowly to his knees, his eyes locked on Fenris as he reached up to the collar of his robes, tugging it open as he stared at the elf.

They were interrupted by a knock at the door. “Fenris? Are you both awake?” Zevran’s voice was muffled by the door.

“I’m going to kill him.” Fenris muttered before he helped Anders to his feet. “Later for this, so don’t go to sleep.” he said roughly.

“Yes, we’re awake.” Fenris called,

Zevran opened the door and slipped into the room. “I trust you both slept well?” he inquired with a small smile before bending and picking up the blanket, shaking it out then folding it neatly. “You seemed more in need of this than I last night,” he said conversationally. “Thankfully the night was not too cold and sleeping under the stars is quite pleasant, no?”

“So this is where you’ve been sleeping?” guessed Anders. “Zevran, I’m sorry, we-” 

The Antivan shook his head. “Do not apologise, friend Anders; what is one night between friends?” He winked at Fenris. “Or... more.” He sketched a brief bow. “Come, breakfast is being served in the galley, and Hawke will be worrying.”

“Are you coming with us?” asked Anders as they followed him from the small store room. The blond elf shook his head.

“I ate earlier; I find that being glared at quite puts me off my food, no?” He glanced back at Fenris and smiled a little wistfully. “You two go on; perhaps I shall find you later. We shall come in site of Antiva later today if the winds hold fair.”

“So soon? How fast did we go last night, I thought it would be a week at the earliest before we made land.” Fenris said.

Zevran laughed. “Sight of land does not mean going ashore I am afraid,” the elf chuckled. “We will be able to distantly make out the coast of Antiva, but we will still have days before us before we reach that coast and then find a welcome port where we may drop anchor. The cliffs of Antiva are not welcoming, alas, and safe harbours few and far between. It will seem maddeningly slow I fear, and indeed another week before we set foot on solid land my friends.”

Anders groaned despairingly. “Another week - in which we’ll be able to see it but not land? Maker, I will be so glad to get off this boat.”

“As will I, but come we need to wash up then eat before Hawke goes mad looking for us.” Fenris said with a wistful glance to Zevran before he opened the door.

Anders nodded. He turned to glance at Zevran but halted; the blond elf had already vanished. He blinked, then entered the cabin they shared with Invictus.

Invictus halted his preparations to seek out his lovers when he heard the door open but his eyes narrowed when he saw the state they were both in. “What happened to you both? Or was that why you were off to yourselves all night?” he asked dully as he took in their appearances, and got a very good idea what they’d been off doing.

Anders glanced down at the state of his clothes and then blushed as he fingered his tangled hair before glancing at Fenris.

“Vic…” he started, then faltered as he thought about how it must look to the other man. Not long after he’d begged for reassurance he was loved, he’d run off for a night with just Anders and then the walked in looking as if they had shagged half the night.

Anders drew a deep breath. “It was me,” he said. “I-I mean, I asked....” He stopped, took another deep breath and then straightened his shoulders as he stared at Invictus. “I needed something physical to distract myself. We didn’t want to disturb your sleep, so we found somewhere quiet. I was able to sleep properly for the first time since we left Kirkwall without needing the potion. I’m sorry if we worried you.”

“You’re both adults, I don’t get a say in what you do, when or where. I’m just relieved you are both unharmed. Now if you’ll excuse me, I still need to eat and you both need to wash up and change clothes.” Vic said quietly, his expression neutral despite how he felt inside.

“Invictus, don’t make this out to be what it’s not.” Fenris warned as he shut the door and went to the basin for a flannel and soap. “This is not the first time you’ve shown jealousy and it’s not going to help us move on from the past. Would you have felt better if I’d asked you first, or just said where we were off to? We’re adults as you said but I can understand why this might upset you after our...talk.” the elf washed up, unconcerned with the two other men in the room as he found clean pants to put on then washed his trousers and hung them up to dry.

Anders had pulled out his pack and had stripped off his robes, and he paused in the act of unlacing his boots to glance up at Invictus before pulling the boots off and then stripping off his pants. He heated the water in the washbasin with a wave of his hand before washing, then pulled clean clothing out of his pack. 

He changed in silence, sensing there was something more going on than was immediately apparent; it sounded almost like a continuation of something between the two men. He pulled on the leather trousers and a clean white linen shirt then pulled his worn old comb out of his pack and set to work to untangle the bird’s nest his hair was in danger of becoming with a faint grimace.

“I’m not love, not at all.” Vic said unconvincingly. “I’m just going to go because I actually am hungry.” the mage replied almost tersely.

Anders froze, picking up on the undercurrent of anger and resentment in Invictus’ voice. He glanced sideways at the other mage, his fingers snarled in a tangle.

Fenris arched one ink-black eyebrow at his lover and smiled coldly. “Invictus, you are a terrible liar, and I will not abide this bullshit from you. Not after a pleasant evening. I apologize for not waking you from a sound sleep, but will you hold it against me every time I am with just Anders, or are you simply intent on not trying to make things right?”

Anders glanced from Invictus to Fenris, then back to the other mage, his fingers working frantically to untangle themselves from the knot in his hair. If things were about to turn unpleasant he wanted his hands free. He watched the Champion warily. 

Fenris took a seemingly-casual step towards Invictus, the cold smile playing about his lips, but Anders could see from the play of the elf's muscles that he was coiled tense like a spring. Anders gritted his teeth and ripped his fingers free of the knot, wincing as hairs tore from his scalp even as he took a step that placed him directly between the two men.

"Hawke, you're taller than Fenris - I don't suppose you could help me unsnarl this?" he said innocently, holding the comb out to the other mage.

“No, get out of the way. If Fenris means to fight me, then so be it. I won’t have everything I say and do dissected. I have a right to feel left out, I have a right to be hurt, or is that no longer allowed as part of what I need to do to make it better, love?” Vic said as he stared at the elf, his eyes dark but his power banked. If they were going to come to blows, it was going to be a fair fight.

"Don't do this," said Anders quietly to Hawke, stepping closer to the other man. "Please... don't fight."

Fenris growled under his breath as he stopped in front of them. “Invictus, I am not going to fight you in this matchbox of a cabin. All it would take is one loose spell to set the ship ablaze, or if you think to take me on hand to hand; one of us would injure Anders. I will say this one last time, get your fucking head right or I will end things. I am not some toy to be passed between you two. I am a free man and if Anders comes to me for comfort, dammit I will give it to him.”

The elf’s eyes were so dark, they seemed almost black in the low light of the cabin as he stilled, his gaze locked to the taller mages. “Did nothing I say stick in your head during our last talk? Did my tears, your own mean nothing Vic? Are you so damned insecure that one night spent with Anders means you will unravel and think I have chosen him over you? You’ve been doing so damned well until now, what the fuck is wrong with you? He asked me Vic, trusted me to give him what he needed, and I was supposed to say no because your precious feelings can’t take it? To the Void with that, and with you if that’s how it’s going to be with us.” Fenris’ voice cracked on the last, his hands were curled into claws and he was coiled tight as an over-wound spring.

"Please don't fight over me," said Anders quietly, dropping his eyes to the floor, a pained look upon his face. He felt trapped, the room too small, both Fenris and Invictus between him and the door, the dark walls seeming to crowd in on him. He swallowed hard. This was not the time to lose his nerve; not with both men seemingly on the verge of blows. He silently prayed that Invictus would not lose his temper for once.

Invictus glared at Fenris for a long, painful moment before he stepped back and left the cabin. He didn’t slam the door, or run, instead he left them alone as he found an empty cabin one deck down and went in. Though unused for their journey it was clean, so he shut the door and sat on the small bunk with his head in his hands, seething at how things had gone from tolerable to on the verge of collapse thanks to him. He finally curled on his side and closed his eyes, and hoped sleep would take him before he could piss off anyone else before nightfall.

"I should go after him," Anders said distractedly, his face pale as a cold sweat broke out on his forehead. The room was suddenly far too small, the low ceiling too near, and he couldn't quite seem to catch his breath. He felt dizzy and lightheaded.

“If you wish, let him fucking stew. He’s a grown man, at least in years. I’m going to eat then maybe I’ll look for him, unless he decides he can’t even face me.” Fenris snarled as he found a shirt to put on and head out to the galley. “You should eat as well, you threw up and over exerted yourself last night, and if you try to avoid it, I will not be happy Anders.” the elf said before he left the mage alone.

"Don't -" Anders whispered, too late as the elf left, the door swinging closed behind him. "-go," he finished with a small gasp. He stepped towards the door and leaned one hand flat against the wall, swallowing down the irrational panic. "This is ridiculous - this is just a cabin on a ship," he muttered to himself, even as he scrabbled for the door handle, fumbling in his desperation to get out of the too-small room.

He drew a shaky breath of relief as he emerged into the hallway and wondered which way Hawke had gone.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders makes a terrible mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for suicide ideation and overdose.

He wouldn’t have thought it possible to get lost on a ship this size, but somehow Anders had managed it.

He stared around the dead end of crates and boxes, wondering just where he was. A corner of the hold, he guessed; how on Thedas he’d ended up here he had no idea - and nor did he have any idea how he was going to get back to their small, cramped cabin, let alone the galley or find Hawke.

He ran a hand through his dishevelled hair and muttered a curse when it snarled in a tangle. He frowned. There’d been a spell - little more than an apprentice’s cantrip, really - back in the Tower... He concentrated, a faint silvery glow suffusing his hand as he ran it slowly over his hair, and then he grinned as he felt the hair untangling under his hand, growing smooth and sleek again. There were so many useful little ways in which magic could make life simpler; he wished he’d remembered this little trick earlier.

He was still lost though, and he wasn’t sure magic would be much use in getting him unlost again. 

He turned back to the small door and then stopped. There was no door handle on this side; he’d somehow managed to lock himself in this small store room. “Oh Andraste’s flaming knickers, no,” he groaned, running his hands over the smooth surface of the door before turning and glancing around the small space. “Just perfect ...."

Invictus grumbled as he walked around the ship in search of a place to sulk and be left alone for the day. He finally found a store room that seemed unoccupied but of course his luck was never that good. “Figures I finally find a place to be alone, and it’s taken.” he muttered from behind Anders.

Anders spun, eyes widening, and then sighed with relief. “Hawke. I thought I was going to be lost down here until we docked. I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere.” The look of panic in his eyes subsided a little as he laughed shakily.

“How did you get lost? It’s not that big of a ship?” Vic replied dully.

“I have no idea,” confessed Anders, sitting down on a nearby crate as he ran a hand through his hair. “These store rooms are a really bad place to get lost in if you’re claustrophobic, you know,” he added with a shudder.

“Then let me help you find your way back to the galley.” Vic replied frostily, he was in no mood to be coddled or spoken to by anyone. He knew it was his fault and that made it worse for him.

Anders nodded, pushing himself back to his feet, giving the walls a nervous look as he felt his heart still racing. He suddenly felt light-headed and dizzy. “Hawke,” he murmured, closing his eyes briefly. The space was too small, he couldn’t breathe properly.

Vic came over and picked Anders up, with a mental note to get him to eat something before he headed up to the deck. The blond mage clutched at Invictus' tunic, breathing hard, eyes tight shut as the Champion bore him up out onto deck. He sat down and let Anders rest his head on his thigh before he spoke to him. “We’re up top, open your eyes and look at the sky, maybe it will help.” 

Anders drew a deep breath then opened his eyes, still clutching at Invictus. “I’m sorry, it just felt suddenly like everything was closing in on me,” he muttered as he stared up at the sky. “Hate this.”

“Not your fault, it’s alright.” Vic said softly, his gaze on the water as he let Anders hang on him.

“I’m glad you found me,” said Anders softly.

Invictus shrugged instead of voicing the sarcastic response that came to mind. Anders glanced up at him, sensing he was holding back on something. He wanted to ask, but after the earlier outburst he was afraid of triggering another. He didn’t know what Invictus and Fenris had spoken about, but whatever it was, Anders felt very uneasy about the air of brooding violence that seemed to linger around the other mage.

“I wish you could talk to me, love,” he said quietly.

“Why? So you can see what a fuck up I am? How insecure I am? What’s the point Anders? I’ve proven I can’t do what’s needed to keep Fenris happy and safe, so I just have to accept that I’m going to do something that will make him leave. Accept that I’m not what he needs and move on.” Vic’s voice wavered, and hitched as he looked away from Anders.

“Because I love you and I’m worried for you,” said Anders gently.

“I’m not worth it, save it for someone who needs it. I can’t do anything right it seems. First I’m told to grow up, to do right. Then not a day later he comes to me and asks for reassurance he’s loved. I don’t know what the fuck he wants out of me anymore.” Vic snapped.

“You are worth it, love.” Anders turned slightly and laid a hand over Invictus’ hand. “I care for you. I don’t know what’s going on inside Fenris’ head, but - but I do care for and about you, love.”

“You’re the only one who thinks so.” Vic said tiredly.

Anders stared up at him, his amber eyes warm yet sad. “I do think so,” he said. “And I’m very grateful you came and found me, love. I’m sorry if Fenris and I hurt you last night. I just needed something to help me forget everything for a little while, and I didn’t want to disturb you if you were sleeping. Would you... would you like me to spend tonight with you?”

“No, I don’t want a pity fuck.” Vic said angrily. “I just want this whole thing over with, and if I’m lucky Isabela will kill me. It won’t hurt as much as I do now.”

Anders twisted around, lifting himself up on one elbow as he reached up his hand towards Invictus’ cheek. “Not a pity fuck, love, I swear,” he said as his amber eyes searched Invictus’ face. “Please love. Don’t push me away too.”

“Why not, it’s all I can manage these days.” Vic sobbed, his hand over his face as he twisted away from the other mage. “I wanted to be alone, not this. I hate it this, I don’t want you to see me like this, how I truly am.” 

“I trust you to see me at my worst, love. Do you not trust me enough to let me in?” asked Anders softly. 

“It’s not about trust, it’s about...how broken I am and I don’t know what to do.” Vic replied as he wiped at his face and refused to look at Anders. “Some Champion I am.”

“I’m not exactly a sterling example of a Grey Warden, love,” Anders smiled sadly as he gently stroked the side of Invictus’ face. “I think you’ve seen me almost at my most broken, the past few weeks, love. Not quite as bad as after my year in solitary, but... pretty bad. I don’t know what to do either. It’s like I’m sitting in the bottom of a black pit, and I can see you and Fenris reaching down to me and I’m trying to reach back. But knowing you both love me is the only thing keeping me going - and it’s enough, love. Just knowing you care for me - that’s all I need, and you’re not too broken for that. Just... be there, let me love and be loved. That’s all I ask love.”

“I’m not sure he loves me anymore, but I will do my best for you. It’s not much but it’s my fault you’re both here, so the least I can do is see it through.” Vic said in resignation.

“It’s enough,” said Anders softly. “I’m sorry I’m not strong right now. I’ll get better soon. I have to. It’ll be better once we’re all on land; this ship is driving us all mad.”

“It’s my fault you’re here, I’m sorry to have done this to you.” Vic replied. “You should eat, or at least have tea or something else you’ll be too weak to walk when we finally get off this damned thing.” Vic muttered. 

Anders nodded. “Tea would be good, and maybe I’ll be able to manage to eat something afterwards,” he agreed.

“Whenever you’re ready I’ll walk you to the Galley, hopefully there won’t be irritating Antivans about.”

Anders nodded, sitting up slowly. 

Invictus helped the blond mage to the Galley slowly, his mind in a whirl as they went, and his heart heavy in case either elf was present. He nearly stumbled when he saw both Fenris and Zevran sitting close together, speaking rapidly, the Antivan elf’s hands often made contact with the Tevinter elf’s much to his dismay. 

Anders glanced over to the two elves, then pressed his hand firmly over Invictus’ hand about his waist. “Easy,” he murmured. “They’re just talking. I know you don’t like him, Hawke, but they’re just talking.”

“I’m not going to say a word, it’s better that way.” Vic replied softly as he helped Anders to a seat then got them each a plate.

Zevran broke off as the blond apostate sat near them, his eyes flicking to the Champion then back to Anders. Anders managed to give him a wan smile.

“Got lost,” he said briefly.

“Glad you’ve been found.” Fenris said with a glance to Invictus, a frown on his face at how the mage refused to look up, or speak to anyone once he’d started to shovel food in his mouth.

“It’s disturbing just how many little store rooms there are on this ship in the hold that have doors that don’t open from the inside,” said Anders as he toyed with his fork.

Zevran shrugged. “The cargo has no need of door handles,” he smiled. “And I doubt the crew lock themselves in often. They are unused to wandering Fereldens who take wrong turns, yes?”

“Anderfels,” said Anders distractedly. “I’m not actually Ferelden.”

“Regardless, I am glad you were found safely.” Fenris said with a look to Invictus then Anders. He arched an eyebrow and nodded his head towards the suddenly silent Champion.

Anders grimaced slightly and shrugged, pushing food around on his plate. “I was rather glad to be rescued,” he said quietly. “It would have been rather embarrassing if I’d had to be rescued by one of the crew.”

“It wouldn’t be the worst thing, and I’d rather have you found than assumed you’d given in to your despair.” Fenris said even as he stared at Invictus who would not even glance up at them. He was eating slowly, clearly in a bid to stall rather than interact with them.

“I’m sorry,” said Anders automatically, poking a piece of vegetable with his fork.

Zevran placed a hand lightly over Anders’ hand, spearing the piece of vegetable on Anders’ fork then raising an eyebrow at the mage as he lifted his hand away. Anders blinked, blushing slightly, then ate the piece of food.

Fenris scowled at Zevran and shook his head no, the last thing he needed was something to make Invictus snap again. He sighed and ate slowly, his gaze locked on the Champion sit there uncomfortably.

“I need to take a bath, I’ll see you all later.” Vic said quietly as he finally raised his head, but flinched from the intensity of the elf’s gaze on him.

Anders glanced up at him. “You’ll come and find me later?” he asked, a worried look in his eyes. “If I’m not waiting in the cabin, I mean?”

“Maybe.” Vic said before he bowed his head again, his posture tense as he expected anger from his elven lover for his stupidity.

“Vic…” Fenris said firmly, his expression wary as he watched how carefully the mage moved.

“No, I can’t right now. I just can’t, not like this.” Invictus pleaded.

Anders glanced between the two men, eyes dark with worry. Zevran suddenly seemed to find the contents of his nearly-empty plate fascinating and busied himself with mopping up the juices on his plate with a piece of bread.

“Then walk with me.” Fenris asked. He didn’t want this to fester between them.

Anders made to lay down his fork but Zevran glanced up enough to make eye contact with him and shake his head almost imperceptibly. Anders dropped his gaze back to his plate, but couldn’t refrain from darting an inquiring look at Fenris.

“If it’s what you want.” Vic said quietly.

“Yes, it is.” the elf replied.

“I could...” began Anders quietly, looking at Fenris then up at Invictus. “Maybe I should come too?”

Vic’s expression fell and he shrugged. No one trusted him not to lose his temper. 

“You should not be dragged into this fight, but…” Fenris faltered as he saw Vic crumple. “I can’t stop you, and who knows, it may even help.”

Anders stared up at Invictus. “I... do you... want me to come?” he asked hesitantly.

“Doesn’t matter, come or not Anders. I won't’ stop you.” Vic said sullenly.

“Then let us find a spot on deck where we can play at privacy.” Fenris said before he turned to Zevran. “Stay put.” he admonished the other elf, knowing his habit of trying to assist.

“I shall not move from this spot,” answered the Antivan elf as he raised his hands in surrender. Anders got to his feet and followed the other two men up on deck.

The ship’s crew were busy about their daily duties, but up by the bow all was quiet with no-one working nearby. Far off to port, the low purple smudge of the Antivan coast could be dimly seen, just as Zevran had predicted. Anders found a coil of rope to perch on, his eyes drawn to that promising blur of land on the horizon.

Vic leaned against a nearby pole and stared at the water as Fenris settled in.

“So. Speak,” said Fenris in a tone that brooked no dissent.

“What can I say? I was a jealous berk, and I did what I always do. I left so I wouldn’t make it worse if that’s possible. I’m insecure and afraid you don’t want me anymore. You’ve got Anders, and your Antivan, why bother with me. I’m afraid I will go to my death with you hating me. I fucking hate this ship, I hate _him_ and I hate myself for being like this. There, I’m broken and no matter what I do, I can’t seem to get my head right so where the fuck does that leave us?” Vic said in a flat voice, his gaze on Fenris despite the urge to stare at the deck and not the elf or the other mage.

“So you won’t even try?” said Fenris softly. “Do Anders and I really mean so little to you that you would destroy everything in a fit of self-pity?”

Anders drew in his breath sharply but remained silent as Fenris turned and gave him a stare.

“It’s not that you don’t mean that little to me, it’s that I don’t know what to do to stop. Everytime I think I’ve got it right, I fuck up again.” Vic looked at him brokenly as he went on. “You mean everything to me and it will kill me if I push you away, but I don’t know how to not be jealous, I don’t know how to change and it seems no matter how much progress I make forward, my own failings kick me back twice the distance I’ve gained. I’m at a point where I feel like it’s inevitable for me to wind up alone, just as Carver warned I would. I’m broken, why can’t you see it?” Vic dropped to the deck like all the air had been taken from him.

Anders was on his feet and moving towards Invictus the moment the Champion hit the deck, reaching out towards him. “No, no don’t, you’re not broken,” he said in a rush as he dropped to his knees next to Invictus. “It’s not inevitable, you can change it!”

Vic shuddered at Anders touch. “Glad you believe that cause right now I can’t see it.” he slurred.

“Please, have faith in yourself love,” pleaded Anders.

Fenris stood there, arms folded and a stern look on his face. “Do you even care about us Vic? Any of us? Or will you continue to sit there and wallow, claim it’s too hard and give up on all we’ve built together? Will this petty jealousy be what unravels us when Danarius couldn’t, when all the weird shit over the past year failed to sunder our bond, but this inability to deal with what you’d asked for well before Anders joined us, this will be our undoing?” the elf asked angrily.

“You’re the Champion,” said Anders quietly. “You’ve faced down darkspawn, dragons, templars, blood mages and Meredith. It takes more than this to break you. You are stronger than you know, and if you love us then I know you will find a way. Don’t give up. Please.”

“That’s just it.” Vic laughed bitterly. “He’ll tell you, I’m not strong, not one damned bit. I’m just as fragile as an Orlesian vase in a wind storm. The Champion is strong, but not me Anders, never me. Always a failure, weak, filled with a self hate nothing has been able to touch except you two. The person who saves Kirkwall isn’t here, it’s not Invictus Hawke, it’s Varric’s version, it’s not the bitter, scared man before you. But if you want me, then take me, but know what you’re getting in the deal.” Invictus glanced up at Fenris but looked away as soon as he saw the elf’s expression.

“It’s not Varric’s hero I love,” said Anders desperately. “Please.”

“Fine, you fucking win, I’ll try. But don't be surprised when I fail again.” Vic said angrily.

“Don’t… you want to try, try because you value us and what we are to each other. Not out of some sense of defeat or being cornered. We would not be doing this if we didn’t think you worth the hassle. I’m so fucking tired of this Invictus. Anyone else would have let you go by now, but damn me I still love you, and I want you, I want us to be happy again. But I’ve only got so much left in me, and you are using the tiny bit of patience I have every time you do this. You want to wallow and cry and act like a damned child, do it.” the elven fighter paused so he could not scream and yell like he wanted, because it wouldn’t help. 

He went on, slightly calmer but still terse and angry. “But this is the absolute last time I will abide it. The last time. I’m done Vic, and if you don’t want to walk off this boat minus a lover, you will fucking try because you want it. If you don’t want to fix it, then no one can make you want it.” Fenris panted, his eyes were bright, his hands were clenched tight and he was a hairsbreadth away from telling Invictus to go fuck himself and the mabari he rode in on.

“No one wins here, Invictus,” said Anders gently. “Don’t you see? We can’t _make_ you want to stay with us. If you don’t want this - if we don’t mean enough to you - then nothing in the whole of Thedas can keep us together. There’s no winning here. We all lose.”

“Stop fucking saying you don't mean enough to me. If you didn’t I wouldn’t put myself through this shit. Just fucking stop saying it.” Vic snapped.

Anders flinched and pulled away, recoiling from the look in Invictus’ eyes. “Sorry... I’m sorry,” he breathed.

“We say it because it’s what we can see from your behaviour.” Fenris snarled. “Apologize to Anders, that wasn’t called for.” 

“No... stop it, stop fighting,” whispered Anders, turning his face away. He could feel his heart racing again, and he was having to fight the urge to get up and flee - away, anywhere, just anything to be away from the vitriol being spat by the two men he loved. It was all falling apart around him, and he couldn’t keep the pieces together.

Vic stood and gave Anders a short bow. “I apologize for how I spoke to you Anders, I was wrong.” he glanced to Fenris and gave him another bow before he rose slowly, his gaze on the elf steady. “My apologies for what I’ve done to you. I will try to be better about things Fenris. If you dont’ mind I would like to go before Anders panics and tries to leap overboard.” his voice was off kilter and his stance wasn’t right but Fenris couldn’t find it in him to care.

Instead the elf came over to Anders and wrapped his arms around him, his tone soft and comforting as he tried to get him to calm down. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please.”

Anders knelt on the deck with Fenris’ arms around him, trying to will his heart to stop racing. He wanted to be gone - where, he didn’t care. He closed his eyes and fought down the waves of nausea that were rolling through him. “Think I need to go lie down,” he muttered. “Need to be alone for a bit.”

“I’ll take you to our room.” he said softly before he glared at Vic.

“I’ll take that as my cue to go.” Invictus left and headed for the farthest railing away from them, his thoughts settling into a cold, dark place. He stared at the water as the ship moved on silently towards Antiva City.

Anders got to his feet with assistance from Fenris and made his way aft towards their cabin. The walk along the deck had never seemed so long. The cabin didn’t seem quite so cramped and confined as they entered; instead, it felt more like safety, a sanctuary.

“I’ll be ok,” he said quietly to Fenris as he stripped off his shirt but left his pants on. “I just need to be alone for a little while.” He rubbed his chest, feeling his heart slowing down now though his chest still ached. It felt like there was a tight band around his ribs, forged from fear. He hadn’t felt like this in a long, long time. Not since those last days with the Wardens after Rolan had joined. 

“I’d rather not leave you alone, not after how you’ve been staring at the water like you want to leap in.” Fenris said quietly.

“Not going to leap anywhere,” said Anders quietly. “I just want to lie down and maybe sleep for a while. I just... Please.” He glanced at Fenris, his eyes sad and troubled. 

Fenris sighed and rose to go. “Very well, but know I am concerned with the way you spoke of wanting to end things. I have been down that road myself and I would not see you walk it as well.”

Anders sat down on the edge of the narrow bunk, looking very tired and worn. “I’m not going to end it, Fenris,” he said quietly. “That would require more energy than I have anyway. I just want things to stop for a little while. Just a chance to rest. To not have to think, or worry, or do anything. Just... to be still for a while.”

“Alright, I’ll be back to check on you later if you don’t mind.” Fenris said before he gave the mage a gentle kiss and headed for the door. “I’m sorry about earlier, it looks like I need to work on my temper too. Sleep well love.” the elf slipped out and towards the galley.

Anders waited until he was certain the elf was gone, his ears straining to hear the quiet footfalls of bare feet on wooden boards; and then he reached for his pack until his hand found the distinctive outline of the square glass bottle. He held it up and squinted; there wasn’t much left. Maybe a cupful, possibly not even as much as that. Half a cup? No matter. It would guarantee a few hours of oblivion at least, untroubled by dreams or unwelcome memories. 

He unstoppered the bottle and set it to his lips, not bothering with a cup; there looked to be so little it wouldn’t be worth measuring anyway. He hesitated only a moment before tipping his head back and swallowing down the last drops of the dark potion. He almost gagged; it tasted thick and strong, clinging viscously to his tongue like a bittersweet honey. Maybe it had settled out in the bottle gradually over the past couple of weeks since he brewed it? 

He blinked, feeling a strange, curious detachment; he looked down at the bottle in his hand, struggling to focus his eyes. His hand seemed almost to belong to someone else; strange, unfamiliar. Almost like the way it had when Justice would take him over; a silent observer in the back of his own mind watching his body obey the commands of another. His lips, tongue and the tips of his fingers were tingling.

He’d dropped the bottle, his hands suddenly clumsy. Something was wrong. It was too strong. He opened his mouth to call out for Fenris, anyone, but instead he was falling backwards onto the narrow cot. His body wouldn’t respond as he tried to catch himself; his back hit the mattress and his hands flopped limply at his sides. He could only lie there, unable to move, not even to cry out. His tongue felt thick in his mouth. His heart was no longer racing; it was slowing even as he felt his breathing grow shallow. He could feel consciousness fleeing swiftly, and suddenly he was deathly afraid.

His last conscious thought was that he had made a terrible mistake. Fenris would never believe he hadn’t done this deliberately. Then darkness overtook him and he knew no more.

**

Fenris had spent some time with Zevran but the whole time worry about Anders was on the back of his mind until he felt the need to go see the mage. “Come, I want to check on Anders. I have a bad feeling.” 

Zevran nodded. “Bad feelings should generally be listened to, in my experience,” the Antivan concurred. “You fear he may have done something foolish?”

“Yes, let’s go.” Fenris hurried to their cabin and swore as he dropped to his knees next to the mage. “Anders...Anders, please.” he begged.

At first glance, Zevran thought the blond apostate was dead. His face looked grey, his slightly-parted lips blue. He lay upon his back, arms by his sides, motionless; but as Zevran took a step closer he realised Anders was breathing, albeit very faintly.

He hurried to the bedside, and his foot struck something. Glancing down, he saw the square potion bottle lying on its side. Picking it up, he could tell immediately it was empty.

“Fenris, when last you saw Anders take this potion - do you remember how much was left?” asked the Antivan elf as he handed the bottle to the white-haired warrior.

“I don’t remember - half a cup, maybe a little more?” said Fenris distractedly as he took one of Anders’ hands between his own. “Cold - Zevran, his hands are like ice!”

The former Crow peeled back one of Anders’ eyelids with a thumb then pressed two fingers against the pulse in Anders’ throat. “He breathes but faintly; his heartbeat is very slow. Fenris, the vial I gave you - you still have it?”

“Yes, wait - it’s in my belt pouches,” Fenris replied, rising to grab for his belt which still lay on top of his pack where he’d thrown it that morning on when getting changed. He hunted swiftly through the pouches then thrust the small vial into the other elf’s waiting hand.

“Anders, why this? Why now?” he groaned as he watched Zevran tilt the unconscious mage’s head back, prying the apostate’s mouth a little further open before unstoppering the vial. Zevran carefully dripped four drops of the golden liquid onto Anders’ tongue then stoppered the vial and tucked it back into one of his own pouches.

“You think he did this deliberately?” asked Zevran as he gently nudged Anders’ chin until the mage’s mouth closed, and then he massaged Anders’ throat with long slender fingers until the blond apostate swallowed reflexively.

“He’s spoken of wanting things to end,” said Fenris unhappily. “He was... very distressed by the conversation with Invictus earlier. Coming on top of everything else and the black mood that’s been upon him these past few weeks....”

He came to stand beside the low bunk, then dropped to his knees next to the bed and reached for Anders’ hand once more. “Why doesn’t he awaken?” he demanded. “You said four drops...!”

“I said it is an effective deathroot antidote,” replied Zevran. “There is more to that potion than deathroot however, and we have no way of knowing how long he lay thus before we came in. It will work, Fenris, I promise you; give it time.”

Fenris stared at the unconscious mage and shook his head. “Why?” he asked the unresponsive man.

“Perhaps once he awakens he can explain it himself, yes?” suggested Zevran quietly. He leaned forward and checked Anders’ pulse and breathing again; the blue was fading from Anders’ lips, his breaths a little deeper. His pulse was still slow, but stronger and steadier now, the unconscious apostate’s face a little less grey.

**

Vic finally came back to the cabin, resolved to accept whatever it was they wanted of him but also ready to accept that both Fenris and Anders would be done with him as well. He stopped inside the doorway when he found Anders laid out as if dead, Fenris sat next to him in worry and the damned Antivan hovering nearby.

“What happened?” he asked as he took slow steps towards the bed.

Zevran held up the empty potion bottle. “It seems our healer has taken too much of his sleeping draught,” he said gravely. “I have given him an antidote for deathroot, but it is taking time to work.” He glanced down at the pale face of the mage. “He lives, but he is not out of the woods yet, I fear.”

“He said he just wanted everything to stop for a while,” said Fenris softly.

Vic blinked slowly then hung his head. “Fuck…” he muttered before he crossed the room to kneel by Anders. “Don’t do this, we need you.” he whispered.

Anders didn’t respond; not even a flicker of an eyelid. His breathing remained quiet and even, showing no sign of awareness of their presence - not even the touch of Fenris’ hand upon his own, which was still cold to the touch.

“Wake up, please wake up.” Vic begged as he tried to Rejuvenate the other mage. “Please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please wake up Anders. Don’t do this,” Invictus sobbed against the blond’s chest.

“There is nothing else I have that might work,” said Zevran quietly. “It was a potion, not any conventional poison. It would take magic now to bring him out - or time, which I fear we do not have,” he added quietly.

“Vic, wake him up.” Fenris said, his voice too low and raspy.

“I did, I tried Rejuvenate.” the Champion said as he cast again as he poured more of himself into the spell. “Wake up damn you.”

Anders’ breath suddenly hitched in his chest beneath Invictus, and his fingers twitched in Fenris’ grasp as his eyelids fluttered briefly.

“Do it again.” Fenris asked.

Vic nodded and cast again, his hands on the mage’s chest as he pumped magic into the other man.

Anders gasped, his eyes fluttering open to stare sightlessly at the ceiling.

“Easy, my friend,” warned Zevran. “The deathroot works by paralysis and hearing is often the last sense to go but the first to return. He will be able to hear us as he awakens, but he will be confused and he may panic. He will be unable to see for a while, and the paralysis will take a while to wear off.”

“Anders…” Fenris said as he kept his hands tight around the mages.

Invictus leaned back so the blond could breathe. “I’ve never been happier to see someone open their eyes.” he said shakily.

Anders’ breathing quickened as his eyes roved sightlessly; he made a faint, moaning sound.

“He may not be able to speak for a little while until the deathroot wears off a little further,” said Zevran quietly.

Fenris nodded and contented himself with touching the apostate to be sure he was actually alive, even if he wasn’t aware.

Vic sat next to him, his hand over the slow, steady heartbeat. His own heart hammered in his chest as he watched the other mage struggle to wake up.

Anders turned blindly towards Fenris’ touch with a faint whimper. Zevran crouched down next to Fenris and Invictus.

“Talk to him, reassure him he is not alone,” the Antivan elf said quietly. “His sight should return in a few minutes, speech may take a little longer.”

“We’re here, both of us. Well three of us, including Zevran. You’re not alone love.” Fenris said as he stroked the dark blond strands.

“Never alone, we’re here for you love.” Vic chimed in.

Anders appeared to be trying to speak but the only sound that emerged was another inarticulate moan as his sightless eyes turned towards Fenris and Invictus. He clumsily managed to shift his free hand a little to cover Invictus’ fingers as they rested upon the blond apostate’s chest.

“Your sight will return soon, my friend,” said Zevran gently. “Do not try to speak yet. You are safe.”

Anders made a faint sound of frustration and closed his eyes, then managed to nod to indicate he understood. Fenris gently brushed errant strands of dark gold hair away from Anders’ closed eyes; the mage opened his eyes again, eyes shifting restlessly as they gazed blindly in the elf’s direction.

“You have frightened decades off my life, love,” said Fenris quietly as he stroked Anders’ face. Anders’ face crumpled; his eyes grew bright with tears. “Hush, don’t cry love,” said the elf hastily as he gently wiped the tears away as they began to roll down the side of the apostate’s face. “I am sorry, I was not chastising you....”

“We’re just so very glad you’re still here with us, love,” said Invictus. 

Anders managed to squeeze Invictus’ hand as he closed his other hand around Fenris’ fingers. He swallowed hard, then managed to gasp, “Sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize.” Vic said in a hurry. “No, don’t try to talk yet. I’ll get you water.” Before Invictus could turn, Zevran handed him a full glass of cold water.

“Thank you,” he muttered before he slid his arm under Anders head so he could help him drink.

"Carefully," murmured Zevran. "A little at a time. Sip it, Anders; we do not want you to choke."

Most of the water spilled down Anders' chin, but he managed to drink a little. His eyes seemed to focus a little on Invictus' face as he swallowed.

Vic took a refill from Zevran without snarling at him, and helped Anders to drink more.

Fenris held onto the mages hand as if he’d never let go, murmuring something in old Tevinter under his breath as he sat there surrounded by the other men in his life. 

Anders blinked; he seemed to actually be able to see Invictus now, and with the return of his sight he calmed down a little. He glanced to Fenris, then up at Zevran, before looking back at Invictus again. "Mistake," he managed to get out. "Didn't... mean."

“It’s ok, you’re ok, you’re ok.” Vic said softly. “You...oh Maker.” the other mage leaned his head down and sobbed in relief. “Thought you were dead.” he muttered.

"S-sorry," Anders whispered. He glanced over at Fenris, his fingers tightening on the elf's warm hand. "Prayers... for...me?" he breathed as he recognised snatches of words, his eyes widening slightly.

The elf nodded as he continued with his words, his hand linked with Anders, his eyes closed and his mouth moving in silent thanks that the mage had not managed to take his life, even accidentally. 

Anders bit his lip as fresh tears welled up in his eyes. "Sorry, so sorry," he murmured brokenly.

"He will need rest and sleep," said Zevran quietly. 

“Of course.” Vic said as he let go of Anders hand reluctantly to give Fenris room to lie down next to him. The bed barely held them all and he felt a little too shaky about crowding the other mage at the moment.

Fenris managed to lie down next to Anders without breaking his hold on the other man, and nestled against him so he could hear his heart beating once more. The blond apostate had slipped back into sleep already.

Invictus slipped to the floor next to the bed and put his head back so he could keep contact with the former warden as well. As much as he wanted to scowl at the blond elf at their side, he didn’t have it in him. He was more worried about Anders than the elf at the moment.

Fenris’ eyes closed finally, but he remained as close to Anders as possible, his almost silent pleas going until he drifted off to sleep next to the former warden.

Zevran pulled blankets off the nearest empty bunks, pulling one carefully over the other elf and Anders before draping the other over Invictus. Then he crawled onto the narrow bunk farthest from the three men, stretching out and closing his eyes.

Hours later Vic woke enough to crawl into the bed and curl around the other mage, his hand laid over Fenris’ until he drifted off again into an uneasy slumber.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Invictus finally grows up, Zevran bests Fenris and loses to Invictus yet somehow both Zevran and Fenris win.

Anders had a few minutes of disorientation when he drifted back into wakefulness. The cabin was dark, and he was pinned down in the narrow bunk by the weight of two bodies. Both his hands were being held, and he could feel the weight of arms across his chest. He blinked in the darkness, wondering if the earlier blindness had returned until slowly his eyes adjusted and he was dimly able to make out shapes in the gloom.

His lips and fingertips still tingled, and he couldn’t feel his legs. His tongue didn’t feel quite so thick however, and he was able to turn his head enough to see that Invictus and Fenris lay on either side of him, holding him.

Fenris’ eyes opened slightly, and his head lifted. He’d been half awake for some time and the slight movement under him was enough to make him come further awake. He smiled at the blond, glad to see him conscious.

“Hello love,” said Anders quietly, tightening his fingers upon Fenris’ hand briefly. 

“Hi,” Fenris said, his voice rough from sleep. He gently pulled his hand free to caress Anders' face; the need to touch the mage to be sure he was awake was one he couldn’t ignore. “Welcome back.”

“Glad to be back,” admitted Anders. “Fenris... I didn’t do it deliberately. It was a mistake. I knew something was wrong the moment I drank the potion; it was too strong. I wasn’t trying to kill myself.” His eyes pleaded with the elf to believe him. 

Fenris stared into the other man’s eyes for a long time, enough that he was satisfied with Anders' words. “I believe you,” he finally said. 

“Good…” Vic mumbled sleepily as he gazed at both of them. “I’m sorry.”

“There isn’t any more potion left, and I won’t make any more,” Anders said quietly. “That... that was too close. I was afraid I wouldn’t ever wake up again and... and I realised I’m not ready to die just yet.” He smiled faintly.

“Even better to hear.” Vic said as he sat up and stretched, then grimaced as he felt his back complain about being on the floor half the night.

“Can you get up if we help you?” Fenris as he too sat up.

“I don’t know,” admitted Anders. “I still can’t feel my legs.” He glanced at Invictus, then frowned as he concentrated and the hand that was held by Invictus’ warm grasp glowed blue. A moment later a flow of soothing healing energy flowed through the dark mage, easing the aches in his back. “Better?” he asked.

“Yes but don’t waste your energy, you need to heal,” Vic fussed at him. He pulled the covers back and hovered his hands over the blond’s long legs, healing magic flowing from him as he checked as best he could.

Anders drew in his breath with a pained hiss as feeling returned slowly to his feet and lower legs with jabbing, sharp electric pains. He gritted his teeth and willed the pain away as he lay still.

“Can you feel your legs now?” Fenris asked, his gaze flicked over to Invictus as the mage withdrew his hands and sat back.

Anders nodded, wincing as the feeling rose higher in his legs, fiery pins and needles creeping up his thighs. “I’ll be alright in a minute,” he said tersely, hoping he was right.

“Good.” Fenris said as he rested his hand on the back of Anders' neck, his touch firm but steady.

Vic stood up and went over to Zevran’s bunk, his expression wary as he knelt down to wake the assassin. “Zevran,” he called out, hopeful that he wouldn’t wind up with a dagger in his neck for the trouble.

“What are you doing Invictus?” Fenris asked as he started to crawl out of the bunk but wound up on his face after failing to untangle the covers. A litany of Tevinter swears filled the cabin as he tried to free himself.

“Something I should have done before we left Kirkwall,” Vic replied.

Zevran snapped awake between one heartbeat and the next, his eyes blank and empty as he recoiled away from the mage, one hand emerging from beneath the thin pillow with a curved dagger which flashed before Invictus’ eyes as the elf brought it up defensively, pressing himself back against the wooden wall of the cabin, knees drawn up ready to launch himself into a fight, his free hand splayed against the wall.

“Zev, don’t…” Fenris cried out, but stopped when Invictus turned and shook his head no. 

The Champion held up his hands and spoke slowly, quietly so he would not alarm the assassin any further. “Zevran, I owe you an apology. I don’t mean you harm, not anymore.” 

Zevran blinked, the dagger lowering slightly as recognition dawned in his eyes and he remembered where he was. He uncurled slightly, then glanced to the dagger in his hand and lowered it before relaxing a little. “You startled me,” he said quietly.

“I was smart enough not to touch you, I thought that would lose me a hand or worse,” Vic said lightly. He knelt and lowered his head as he spoke to the elf. “Thick-headed as I am, even I have to accept that if you’d wanted you could have slain us all as we slept and gotten clean away in the night if you truly meant harm. I was wrong, and I’ve done everyone harm by being such an idiot. I do not expect forgiveness, or even for you to accept my apology, but it’s there for you to take if you will have it so late into this venture.” Invictus spoke quietly, his words true despite his reluctance to look at the former Crow as he spoke.

Zevran threw the dagger to one side onto the bunk and sighed, running a hand through his pale gold hair. “I have only ever told you the truth, my friend,” he said quietly. “But better you should realise this late than never at all, no?” He leaned forward and rested one hand on the Champion’s shoulder. “It is past. I do not think you will make such a mistake a second time, no? And my reputation was against me even from the beginning. It cannot be easy to trust one such as I.”

Vic forced himself not to flinch when Zevran touched him, and he finally looked up at the other man. “I don’t want to lose him, either of them. Or myself. Like I said even someone thick-headed as me can finally understand the truth if it hits him over the head hard enough.” 

Zevran gripped his shoulder lightly then withdrew his hand. “Sometimes it takes nearly losing someone to have one’s eyes opened,” he said softly, understanding and empathy in the golden eyes that rested upon Invictus. He glanced up at Anders, who was struggling to sit up. “I am glad to see you are still with us, friend Anders.”

Vic nodded then rose with a sheepish look to his lovers, unsure of what they thought of him finally seeing truth.

Fenris nearly toppled him over as he flung himself against Vic in a hard embrace.

Anders managed to get himself upright and stared up at Invictus and Fenris with a small smile. “Easy, love, you nearly knocked him flying,” he gently chastised Fenris.

Zevran chuckled as he rose, picking up the dagger and sliding it back into its sheath.

“It’s ok, getting hugged so hard I nearly fall down is alright with me,” Vic said softly as he kissed the top of Fenris’ head.

“Shut up, you’re ruining the moment,” Fenris said, but it was muffled against Vic’s chest.

“I shall go fetch food for us all,” declared Zevran. “You should all perhaps have a little time alone without anger clouding the air for once, hmm?” He smiled again as he slipped out of the room.

Vic for once didn’t glare at the elf for his commentary, but instead held onto Fenris as if he was going to flutter away the second he let go.

“Proud of you,” Fenris said quietly before he pulled back just a bit.

“You’ll have to bend down if you want a hug from me, I’m not sure I’m capable of standing without pulling all three of us over,” remarked Anders.

Vic let Fenris go finally and went over to Anders with a grin. “I don’t mind being pulled over if it means you can stand,” he said before slipping behind the mage with a grin. “Besides, I think Fenris wants to get in a hug now.”

The elf knelt gracefully before Anders and hugged him close, before he kissed him on the cheek. “So glad today is starting better than yesterday ended.”

Anders wrapped his arms around the elf and buried his face against the side of Fenris’ neck. “I’m so sorry for scaring you like that,” he breathed, before pulling away and turning slightly to reach for Invictus with one hand. “Both of you. I never meant that to happen, truly. I’ve been a constant source of worry to you both for a while now, and I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok, I know you don’t mean to do it. I know you weren’t trying to kill yourself. It’s ok, just don’t take that potion again, please.” Fenris begged.

“It’s all gone, and I won’t make any more,” promised Anders sombrely. “I think I scared myself back to my senses. At least, I think so. I can’t guarantee I won’t slip back down again, but I shan’t risk that ever happening again.”

“Good, I...I don’t think I could stand having anyone else die in my arms again.” Vic admitted from behind them.

Anders leaned back into Invictus’ arms and let his head drop back until it rested on the other mage’s shoulder, staring up at Invictus. “I’m sorry I was nearly....” He broke off and closed his eyes, turning his face to nuzzle silently against the side of Invictus’ neck. “So sorry,” he murmured contritely, his voice muffled.

“It’s ok now love, it’s ok. Let’s just eat something and get out of this damned room, I’m starting to feel hemmed in.” Vic kissed him gently to show he wasn’t upset. “I’m sorry for not being good about this whole three-way thing I started. I hope you can forgive me for that.”

Anders straightened up slowly. “Maybe when Zevran gets back with food we should go eat on deck?” he suggested. “I think I could do with some fresh air myself.” 

“Sounds like a good plan.” Fenris said as he rose to his feet. “I’m getting too old to kneel like that on hard floors.” He muttered. “Don’t you dare heal me, save your energy.” he admonished Anders just as the mage raised his hand.

Anders frowned a little, then lowered his hand slightly. “Help me up then?” he asked.

Fenris helped him to stand just as the door opened behind them. Zevran stepped in with a tray of food as Anders stumbled, clutching at the white-haired elf. 

“I’m falling!” he exclaimed in alarm as he overbalanced. Zevran deftly transferred the tray in his hands to his left hand whilst with the right he grabbed both Fenris and the slender mage around the waists. 

“Hawke, a little help if you would?” called the Antivan.

Vic took Anders off his hands and slipped an arm around his waist. “Let me, since we’re more of a height.” Fenris stood up and took the tray from Zevran before the shorter elf could tip himself and the tray over.

“Deck, I think we all could use the air,” he said as he waited for Zevran to turn around and go back out.

“Legs not quite working right,” muttered Anders ruefully. “Wait - pass me my shirt?”

Zevran reached passed the two mages to grab the shirt Anders had discarded the previous evening and helped Anders into it before grabbing his shabby feathered coat then heading towards the door.

Fenris followed him to a sunny spot on deck and managed to sink down, cross-legged, without dropping the tray as the others sat around him in a circle. He served himself since he was starved.

Zevran helped Invictus to get Anders seated before draping the feathered jacket around the mage’s thin shoulders and dropping down into a crouch between Anders and Fenris. He glanced over the selection of foodstuffs then put together a plate of things he thought the half-starved mage would likely find the easiest to digest and waited to see Anders make a start before he served himself.

Fenris arched an eyebrow at Zevran before he dug into his food, unsure why the Antivan was playing nursemaid to Anders. He remembered suddenly that Zevran was his patient not long before their travel, so his behavior made finally made sense.

Anders ate slowly, glancing up at the others from time to time, his eyes often flicking to Invictus before back to his plate.

Vic ate quickly, his appetite back after the hard night they’d shared. He wondered why Anders kept looking to him, and asked once he’d cleared his plate. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” said Anders hastily. “I was thinking how nice this is - the fresh air, sharing food together. It - it reminds me a little of how it used to be, back when you both first took me in.”

“Ah, I see.” Invictus took another slice of bread and buttered it, his mind at peace for the first time since they set off on their voyage.

“We’ll do this again, in the garden once we’re all home.” Fenris said with a look to both his lovers, and an apologetic glance to Zevran.

“As to that - or at least, getting us closer to our destination and thus closer to home, hmm? - the captain thinks he may be able to send us ashore in the ship’s boat soon; there is a sheltered cove not far from here. Too shallow for the ship to put in, but a small boat might drop off a handful of passengers who prefer not to be seen entering Antiva at one of the ports, if you take my meaning,” interjected the Antivan elf, avoiding discussion of what might happen concerning himself after their mission was over.

“As long as it gets me on land sooner than later, I’ll fucking swim to shore.” Fenris said before he leaned against the railing at his back.

“You’d sink with that giant sword of yours love.” Vic pointed out before he flopped on his back, closed his eyes and sighed in contentment.

Anders glanced out over the waves. “I swam Lake Calenhad once - did I tell you that?” he said conversationally. “Nearly drowned. It was bloody freezing. I’d say it’s about as far from here to those cliffs as it was across Lake Calenhad. If I tried it right now I _would_ drown. I can wait for the boat.” He turned back to his food. “Drowning’s not a fun way to die, you know. And I wasn’t wearing leather armour with a massive sword strapped to my back.” 

“I’m not going to actually try it, I’d sink because of the lyrium,” Fenris replied. “It’s heavier than you might realize.”

Anders glanced up. “Really?” His eyes lit up with curiosity. “It adds that much to your weight? Though lyrium’s pretty dense, isn’t it?”

“If Fenris chose to pin me down I doubt I could shift him,” observed Zevran. “And not because of his strength. I could likely pin you down with no trouble Anders, for all you are a Grey Warden. Hawke, I could probably escape fairly easily. But Fenris?” He shook his head. “We are not so differently matched in strength as you might think, but he outweighs me more than he should even for his extra inches in height.”

“You just want me to try,” Fenris said huskily before he glanced at Vic, pleased the other mage didn’t contest his flirting.

“I’m not wrestling anyone, but I’d like to see how easily you fare against Fenris and Invictus, Zevran,” remarked Anders. “I bet you wouldn’t find Invictus half as easy to escape as you think. I’ve gone up against the both of them before, and although he’s no Grey Warden Hawke is stronger than you’d expect for a mage.”

“You wrestled them both?” asked Zevran, arching an eyebrow as he smiled.

“And they won,” Anders replied with a shrug. “And no, I didn’t let them, before you ask.”

“He’s stronger than I expected, and wily,” Fenris agreed.

“Surprised me that’s for sure,” Vic said without an effort to move.

Anders merely grinned smugly. “No point in giving you a return match, Hawke could have me easily with one hand tied behind his back right now,” he shrugged. 

“Or one hand tied behind _your_ back?” suggested Zevran with a suggestive grin, and the former Grey Warden laughed.

“You’re not slick Zevran, I can see where you want this to go,” Fenris said with a look to the other men. “Let’s up the ante, you pin me, you get to have me. Vic decides his own prize.”

Zevran raised his eyebrows slightly, then glanced to Invictus. “And if you pin me?” he asked softly.

“Fenris gets to take you in front of us,” Vic said with a leer. 

Zevran went still, his features schooled into an almost perfect mask so that they had no idea what was going on in the Antivan elf’s mind. “Done,” he said very softly, and began stripping off his gauntlets and tunic. He glanced to Anders. “Rules?”

Anders gaped, then rapidly regained his composure. “No use of powers - strength and skill only,” he said. “Victor has to pin the loser for a count of five, and I’ll be the one counting. If at any time either opponent loses consciousness, they lose and the match stops. No biting, no blows below the belt or above the neck. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” nodded Zevran as he threw his tunic to one side and began tugging off his boots.

“I’ll go first.” Fenris said as he rose and pulled his own tunic off as well as the amulet he kept on him, a gift from Vic early in their courting. He stepped a few paces away and gave the Antivan a short bow. “On Anders’ signal?”

Zevran rose to his feet, tossing his blond hair back over his shoulders as he nodded.

“On my mark,” said Anders. “Three... two... one... MARK!”

Members of the crew paused in their duties to watch as the two elves leapt towards each other and began to grapple. The white-haired elf with the curious silvery-white tattoos was the taller, his muscles marking him clearly as a warrior; but although he was fast, the shorter blond elf was faster still. Each time it seemed Fenris had Zevran in a hold the Antivan would somehow twist and then slip free; Fenris soon realised that the blond elf was an experienced and skilled wrestler, and trying to pin him was almost as frustrating as trying to pin water.

Zevran laughed as he slipped free of Fenris yet again, twisting and canting his hip and then Fenris was slammed into the deck and the Antivan covered him.

Fenris snarled as he was held down to the count of two then squirmed free from Zev’s grasp. “Close...so very close,” Fenris taunted before he went in for another grapple but failed to hold onto the other elf; both of them were slick with sweat and he soon found himself pinned against the deck, the weight of the Antivan heavy on his back as he struggled but found himself held tight.

“Are you making this too easy for me, _carissimi_?” Zevran whispered in Fenris’ ear as Anders began to count. “You are holding back. You could throw me off easily if you really wished it....”

Anders reached three and there were a few jeers and catcalls from the crew. “Come on white-hair, you can beat him easily!” called one voice.

“Ten silver on the blond!” called another. 

“Stop trying to distract me.” Fenris hissed before gave Zevran a shove and got to his feet with a slight lurch. His plan was working but he was wearing down, no matter what Zevran thought he was doing to win...or lose.

The smaller elf rolled away and came to his feet as cheers erupted from the gathered crew. One crewman pushed Zevran back towards Fenris. “Go on, Blondie, I’ve got fifteen silvers riding on you!”

Zevran ignored the man’s comment as he circled around Fenris, panting. “Let us make an end of this swiftly, my friend; I have Hawke to beat next after I’ve bested you.” He grinned as he lunged for Fenris.

“Shut up and try to pin me, smart ass.” Fenris said as he dodged Zevran’s first attempt and gave him a good roll for his troubles. He bounced away with a dirty grin, his eyes bright and mischievous. He lunged again but managed to tangle himself around the other elf and land face down again.

Zevran had Fenris’ arm twisted up behind his back and one taut leg wrapped around the lyrium warrior’s thigh, holding him down as sweat ran down the blond elf’s face, his breathing ragged.

Anders began to count again, his eyes on Fenris’ face.

“Well, _carissimi_?” breathed Zevran. “What do I win if I best you?”

“Me, yours...get to take me in front of them ...or alone.” panted Fenris, a wince at how Zev had his arm in a vice-like grip.

“Three,” counted Anders slowly as the crew’s shouts rose in intensity.

“And if I lose to you? What prize would you take?” he panted.

“You… make you...scream for me.” Fenris groaned as he felt his shoulder strain against the other elf’s hold. “Fuck...I give, I give.” he screamed as he felt his arm twist a bit too far.

Zevran released him and stood up, holding out a hand to Fenris to assist him up. As he pulled Fenris to his feet, he leaned in close to Fenris’ ear. “I have no chance of besting Hawke, _carissimi_ ,” he breathed. “I promise I will scream for both of you.” He stepped away and smiled as he gave Fenris a bow. The crew were shouting and cheering, coin changing hands all round them.

Fenris bowed then made his way over to Anders so he could rest. He watched as Hawke stepped over to them and pitched a water skin to the other elf. 

“Up for another go?” he asked with a smirk.

Zevran took a long drink of the water then nodded his thanks. He threw the waterskin to Anders, who caught it then handed it to Fenris.

“I am ready,” panted the Antivan.

“Hawke’s going to slaughter him,” predicted Anders quietly. “Zevran’s already exhausted.” He rose to his feet. “Zevran, are you sure about this?”

“I am,” nodded the Antivan. Crew members were laying wagers already as they eyed the larger bulk of the Champion.

“Very well,” sighed Anders. “On my mark. Three... two... one... MARK!”

Vic lunged at him and snagged Zevran around the waist before he pinned him on his back. “Treat him right when you claim your win.” Hawke whispered in his ear. “I know he lost on purpose, why I don’t know.”

Despite his exhaustion, Zevran was still surprisingly fast and strong, and he suddenly arched his back and twisted, somehow managing to flip Invictus over his hip and reverse their positions, his forearm across the mage’s throat. “We did not discuss... my prize... if I win,” he gasped with a feral grin.

“Like you’re going to beat me,” Vic laughed as he bucked, throwing the light elf off easily. He got to his feet, then circled the elf, wary of his tricks even if he was fighting bare handed with him. “Come at me.”

“I have not lost yet, nor shall I whilst I have breath in my body,” vowed Zevran as he circled the human mage.

“Cocky little shit aren’t you?” Vic said before he feinted to the right then tackled Zevran from the left. He’d wound up straddling the elf, and pinned his hands over his head. “What was that about losing?”

Anders began to count as the shouts of the crew rose to a fever pitch. “Come on knife-ears, I got a sovereign riding on ya!” roared one man.

Zevran’s eyes went blank. He stilled briefly, and then suddenly he bucked, his back arching sharply as Invictus flew into the air, the elf already twisting, oblivious to the pain as his wrists were wrenched by Invictus’ grip upon them. As Invictus slid sideways, Zevran drove his shoulder into the mage’s stomach, and the Champion exhaled explosively as he lost his grip upon the elf. 

The Antivan rolled to his feet and glared around the ring of crewmen, flat gold eyes raking the crowd of faces for the voice he had heard as they suddenly fell silent. He fixed on one man.

“You.”

“Shit,” Fenris said from his spot next to Anders.

Vic was on his feet and slid in front of Zevran. “Zev...me, I’m the target, come on and fight me remember?”

“You heard what he called me.” Zevran’s voice was toneless as he stared past Invictus with those terrible blank eyes. “I will kill him.”

Vic turned to Fenris, not sure he should stop the elven rogue in front of him. He’d be ready to kill if someone had said that about his lover.

Fenris shrugged and motioned for Vic to move out of his way.

Anders got to his feet and pushed his way to Zevran’s side, grasping at the elf’s shoulder as he leaned in close to whisper urgently in the elf’s ear. The Antivan made to shrug him off but Anders held on, shaking his head as his whispers became more heated though neither Fenris nor Invictus could make out a word. Then finally the blond apostate pulled away slightly and stared at the crew men nearest the man who had insulted Zevran.

“Get your friend away from here,” he said in a low warning voice.

The crew men stared at each other and then several men bundled the offender away.

Zevran turned to Anders. “You saved his life.”

“He wasn’t worth it,” said Anders quietly. “You know this. Another piece of your soul, remember?”

Zevran stared into his eyes then turned away. “Hawke... do you still wish to wrestle?” he asked, his voice distant.

Vic rubbed his hand over his stomach and shook his head no. “Maybe a rain check for another time, that last hit was pretty hard.” 

Zevran turned and stared into Invictus’ eyes silently for a long moment. “Then I concede our match,” he said quietly before turning away to pick up his clothing in one hand, his boots in the other. He strode away towards the cabin.

“Well fuck that went south quickly,” Vic said as he got his shirt with a wince. “Maybe you should go with him Fenris, we’ll stay out here for a bit, I think Anders could use some more sun.”

The taller elf nodded, grabbed his shirt and headed off after Zevran with a grateful look to his lover.

Fenris found Zevran in the cabin, the other elf sitting quietly on his bunk, hands on his knees, head lowered. As Fenris entered, the blond elf lifted his head slowly.

“My apologies,” he said quietly. “I... lost control.”

“It was not without reason, I would have likely taken his heart before anyone could have stopped me. Vic and Anders do not understand these things, you saw how Vic moved away for you? That is the extent of his understanding.” Fenris sat next to him and leaned against the other elf.

Zevran lowered his head. “I rose to the head of the Crows and then destroyed them. I am feared across all of Thedas for the things I have done and can do. I fought alongside the Warden during the Blight and gave my all. And for what? When all is said and done, I am still just a _knife ear_ to these ungrateful _shem_ bastards. Just another elf whore fighting and fucking for their entertainment.” His voice was bitter as he clenched his hands into fists. “I will always be nothing more to them.”

Fenris pulled him close and kissed his cheek before he spoke. “They don’t matter Zevran. Perhaps you should have killed him, shown them you are to be feared and not mocked. No matter what I do, some people will always see me as the Champion’s elven whore. I don’t care but it’s not easy, it’s never easy and some days it's too much. Those are the days when I lock myself away from him, from everyone until I can cope. Because they don’t know me, I know me and that’s all that will matter when I die.” 

“Anders was right,” said Zevran quietly. “That worthless worm’s death would not be worth the stain upon my soul.” He closed his eyes and slumped into Fenris’ embrace. “I am glad you are here, _carissimi_ ,” he said quietly. “Tell me: why did you deliberately lose to me? We both know you should have won our fight.”

“You’ll think me silly if I admit why I did it,” Fenris said before he looked away.

“Tell me, and I will tell you why I conceded to Hawke,” said Zevran quietly, a faint smile playing across his lips.

“I’ve been wanting to be taken for a while,” Fenris mumbled.

“Ahhh,” said Zevran understandingly. He turned towards Fenris, lifting a hand to the other elf’s face and turning it until Fenris had to meet his stare. “You only had to ask, _carissimi_ ,” he said softly. He leaned in and gently kissed Fenris.

“I did, no one took me up on it.” He pouted after Zevran leaned back from their kiss.

“You did not ask _me_ , beloved,” said Zevran. “If that is truly what you wish then I will gladly oblige you.”

“Yes, if you are in the mood. If not I can wait a bit longer. You did take us both on with no real break in between,” Fenris said softly.

Zevran laughed quietly. “Of course I did. Did you think you were the only one who wished to lose?”

“Yes”... Fenris’ eyes widened. “Wait, what?” he exclaimed.

“I want to be taken by you in front of Hawke and Anders,” said Zevran with a small smile. “I want you to - what is the phrase? Fuck my brains out. I want you to take me so far over I forget even my own name, and I want them to watch me come utterly undone beneath you. I want to scream your name until all Thedas hears, _carissimi_.” 

He laced the fingers of one hand with Fenris’ fingers, then bent to kiss their hands before glancing up at Fenris with a playful smile. “The moment Hawke declared my forfeit should I lose to him, winning was out of the question. Of course you made it easier for me by exhausting me first; I could fight my best and still lose with dignity - or should have done, had I not been... distracted.” His gaze grew hard for a moment as his fingers tightened upon Fenris’, then they relaxed as he lowered his head.

“So. Do you wish for me to take you now, or would you rather wait until Anders and Hawke are here so that you may take me first? The choice is yours, _carissimi_.”

Fenris stared at him, unsure what he wanted more. He licked his lips and nodded slowly for Zevran to make his move. 

Zevran stroked his face gently. “You are leaving the choice to me?” he asked softly. “Speechless, beloved?”

“Yeah, both, both sound good but your choice. Maybe go get Hawke if you want him here.” Fenris said in a low voice as he plucked at the other elf’s pant laces, eager to get started no matter what Zev decided.

“Very well,” said Zevran quietly. “Then we shall begin with you, _carissimi_ ; and when you have regained the power of speech -” The blond elf paused and gave Fenris a wicked grin. “Then you can go fetch Hawke and Anders, and do whatever your heart desires to me, yes?”

“You assume I’ll want to move when you’re done with me.” Fenris rasped before he leaned in to kiss Zevran until he pulled back with a whine. “Please…”

“Ah, but by the time you have done with me I would not be able to perform to the satisfaction of either of us,” laughed Zevran. “You had a chance to rest between our fight and now, whereas I have fought both you and Hawke. So. You first I think, beloved.” Before the elf could protest further, Zevran had pushed him back onto the narrow bunk with one hand pressed flat against Fenris’ chest as he bent over him and claimed his lips with a kiss, his other hand reaching down to unlace Fenris’ pants deftly.

“Me first?” Fenris asked in a daze. “Me first what?” 

In answer, Zevran slid back down Fenris’ body, sliding down the other elf’s pants over his hips as he went, freeing Fenris’ cock. He bent down and licked a long wet stripe up the underside of the white-haired warrior’s member then swirled his tongue around the tip before blowing across the wet skin.

“Ah…Zev.” Fenris moaned as he laid back so the other elf could do as he wished. 

The blond head dipped, and Fenris’ cock was engulfed by delicious wet heat in one smooth movement from head to root as Zevran unbuckled his belt, slipping it off and laying it to one side. He began to work Fenris’ flesh with lips and tongue as he unlaced his own pants, drawing back then sinking back down, swallowing as the head of Fenris’ cock hit the back of the Antivan’s throat and drawing pleased moans and curses from the white-haired elf. 

Zevran shifted further back down the bunk until he lay on his stomach between Fenris’ legs. He pulled his mouth free of Fenris’ cock, replacing his mouth with his hand as he kissed the inside of Fenris’ thigh. Then his head dipped lower as his hand steadily pumped the Tevinter elf’s heated flesh until Fenris felt the tip of the other elf’s tongue probing at his entrance.

That made Fenris jump and sit up in surprise. No one had done such things to him, he’d never thought to ask Invictus and things were still too new with Anders. “What...are you going to do?” he panted.

“You do not like this?” said Zevran, pulling back immediately.

“No...no one has done that to me before. Never asked for it.” Fenris said between shallow breaths. “I’ll tell you to stop if...I don’t like it.”

“Ah, just so,” said Zevran. He reached up and took hold of Fenris’ hand and guided it to his hair. “If you find yourself unable to speak, just pull, yes? I will stop immediately I hear you give the word or feel you pull my hair. Yes?” He locked eyes with the other elf and waited.

“Yeah...just, make me feel good.” Fenris said quietly as he threaded his fingers into the other elf’s blond hair.

Zevran gave him a reassuring smile then lowered his head once more, his tongue lapping gently around Fenris’ entrance then sweeping slowly across it as his hand resumed slowly pumping Fenris’ cock. He laved the puckered flesh with slow, firm, broad strokes of his tongue, and then slowly probed into Fenris with the tip of his tongue again. His tongue began to push in and out gently, inching a little further in each time the blond head dipped.

Fenris cried out and writhed against the other elf. “Fuck...fuck…” he moaned repeatedly, his hands clenched in the thin sheets instead of Zevran’s hair. “More.”

Zevran chuckled quietly then probed deeper with his tongue, flexing it inside Fenris then lapping him inside, his tongue curving and touching just the right spot to make Fenris shiver.

“Gonna...come…” Fenris rasped as he tried to keep himself from screaming for Zev to just fuck him already. “Please, oh Maker.” he whimpered.

Zevran chuckled and drew back, reaching for his belt pouches. He reached in and found the vial he was looking for without looking. He flicked the cork out with his thumb and oiled his hand then reached down to slip two fingers into Fenris as he poured more oil on his own hard cock. “You are nearly ready for me, I think,” he said softly as he reached deep inside Fenris, scissoring his fingers to open him up further before slipping a third finger. “Would you like me in you now?”

“Yes, so ready.” Fenris moaned as he tried to look at Zevran, but found he couldn’t keep his gaze on the elf and focus on how he felt. “Zev…”

Zevran pressed the head of his slicked cock against Fenris’ entrance then slowly pushed in until he was fully seated inside the white-haired elf’s tight body. He groaned, low, as he waited for Fenris’ body to adjust to the sensation of being filled; only when he felt Fenris try to rock back onto his cock did he start to roll his hips and move. His thrusts were slow and steady at first, increasing speed only when Fenris called out encouragement and pleas. He kept one hand on Fenris’ hip for balance as with the other he pumped Fenris’ cock.

“So beautiful, my wanton one, my _carissimi_ ,” he groaned.

Fenris tried to find words but it was difficult, instead he answered by how he moved under the other elf. He managed _please, more, more Zev_ in gasps, but nothing more. Soon he arched his back against Zevran’s rhythmic strokes as he came closer to release.

Zevran’s strokes came faster, his hand swift and sure on Fenris’ cock as he angled his hips to thrust deeper until each brush of his cock grazed Fenris’ sweet spot and had the other elf reduced to panting cries, steadily coming further and further undone as Zevran drove him on towards climax, the Antivan’s voice a reassuring purr as he murmured to Fenris how beautiful he was.

Vic’s steps faltered as he neared the door and heard the creaking of the bunk they had just slept in. He actually smiled at the noises he heard from the other side of the door, sure that Fenris was getting what he seemed to want from the other elf. He took a breath and steeled himself for the sight of Fenris with Zevran, unsure if he would like it or run from the room.

“Don’t judge me if it’s too hard to see this and I flee,” he murmured to Anders before he slipped into the room and found Fenris tangled with the other elf, his hair plastered to his face, his eyes open and staring at him as he was taken hard and deep by the Antivan. “Maker…” Vic whispered as he drank in the sight of them.

Anders rested a hand upon Invictus’ shoulder as he entered behind the Champion then halted, eyes widening as he took in the view.

Zevran raised his head as he panted, his strokes never faltering as he pounded into Fenris, his lips parted and his golden eyes slightly unfocused. 

Fenris glanced at Vic and smiled briefly before his eyes closed and he started to come, a line of swears falling from his lips as he coated his stomach and Zevran’s. He screamed as Zevran went faster, the sensation overpowered him as he was filled repeatedly by the other elf. Zevran’s strokes stuttered arhythmically as his own climax overtook him and he groaned almost silently, his body shuddering as he rode it out then slumped, bracing himself on arms that trembled slightly, gasping and panting as he waited for his heart to slow down. 

He slid out of Fenris gently then sat back upon his heels and tossed his hair back over his shoulders. He glanced up at Invictus and Anders and gave them a cheeky wink.

“I’m such a stupid man.” Vic said as he came over to the bed and dropped to his knees next to Fenris. 

“You alright love? Got what you wanted?” the Champion asked quietly.

Anders moved over to the wash basin, heating the water with a wave of his hand before he brought it over to the bed with a couple of flannels and a towel. Zevran took the bowl and the flannels with a nod of thanks before starting to clean Fenris up then tending to himself.

Fenris nodded and pulled Vic down for an awkward kiss before he moaned for more in his ear. “Want you...all to have me,” he said huskily. 

“You do?” Vic asked in surprise. “Love...I’ll give you whatever you want. Just if it’s too much say so.” 

Zevran chuckled. “He is insatiable, no?” he smiled. “I must wait for him to make me scream in turn, I think.”

“You can go again,” Fenris muttered even as he pulled at Vic to undress. He looked to Anders with a leer. “You too, I know you’ve wanted to.” 

“Me?” exclaimed Anders, stumbling back until he fell rather than sat on his own bunk.

“Yes, you…” Fenris said as he got to his knees to tug at Vic’s clothing.

“Slow down, I want to at least wash up a bit. Just relax love, I’ll be with you in a moment.” Vic stripped entirely and rinsed himself off before he joined Fenris on the narrow bed. “We might break it at this rate.” 

“Don’t care...want you,” the elf moaned before he took Vic’s mouth and reached down to stroke him. Zevran threw his head back and laughed as he stretched out upon the narrow cot behind them, resting his head upon one hand.

Anders raised his hands and shook his head. “I’ll sit this one out,” he decided. “I don’t think I have the energy to keep up with you when you’re in this mood, love.”

“Ah, the famed Grey Warden stamina is not all it is rumoured to be?” teased Zevran.

“Not when the Grey Warden in question is still recovering from an overdose of deathroot and half-starved,” said Anders quietly.

That made Vic and Fenris pause in their attempts to get each other pinned. 

“Maybe we should get you food and resume this later?” Invictus said guiltily. 

Anders shook his head as he stretched out on the bed upon his side, resting his head on one hand in unconscious mimicry of Zevran’s position. “We had breakfast not that long ago,” he said. “After so long without eating properly my stomach’s shrunk; I can’t eat too much just yet. Maybe in a little while. Please, don’t mind me; I’ll just lie here and watch - that is, if you’re alright with that?”

Fenris sat up and looked at the blond mage warily. “I...I don’t want you to be left out, love.” he said quietly.

Anders shook his head. “I won’t be. Believe me, I’ll be enjoying it just fine from over here.” He winked.

Zevran leaned over to whisper in Fenris’ ear. “Perhaps later when he has rested we can have a little fun with our mage, yes? Let him be on the receiving end of our attention. He need not tax his energy if we do all the work....” He kissed Fenris’ cheek.

“Alright,” Fenris said warily, not entirely sure he liked the idea of leaving Anders out of the fun. 

Vic turned to him and nuzzled his cheek. “If you’re no longer in the mood we can wait love.” 

Zevran turned his golden eyes on Invictus. “Perhaps we could indulge in... lighter play?” he suggested with a small smile.

“Alright, what did you have in mind?” Vic said, before his eyes went down to where Fenris had grabbed him once more and seemed intent on getting him ready to have him.

Zevran grinned. “Let Fenris guide us. There is also the matter of a certain... conceded match,” he added.

“Hmm, there is that. Perhaps, I need a touch of magic to get me ready?” Fenris rumbled as he looked to Vic with a devious smile. 

Zevran grinned then shifted over onto his back as he stretched his arms up above his head, arching his back up off the bed as he stretched, almost catlike, with a faint groan then settled back onto the bed, glancing to Invictus.

“I believe the bet was for you to be taken while they watched,” Fenris said as he reached up to grab the coil of rope that hung over their bunk. “Mind if we play?” 

Zevran eyed the rope then grinned as he held out his hands, arms crossed at the wrists. “Please do,” he encouraged. 

“Vic, tie him up nice and tight, I’m going to get more oil,” Fenris said before he slid from the bed and made it over to their packs to rummage for the oil someone had packed.

“Aye.” Vic pulled Zevran’s wrists behind his back then set about twining the rope around the elf’s wrists until he was sure he wouldn’t be able to slip out of the knots. “Alright?”

Zevran tugged experimentally, twisting his wrists in the tight bonds. “It would take me quite a while to escape this,” he admitted.

Anders had sat up on the other bunk, his eyes dark as he regarded them intently.

Fenris sauntered over and handed the oil to Vic, his eyes dark with what others might see as menace but it was lust that moved the elf to action. He bit Zevran’s ear and whispered filthy things he was going to do to him Tevinter.

“Prepare him, make him squirm for you,” Fenris said before he slipped his hands into the other elf’s hair and tugged on the braid that trailed down the back of his head. “You want to scream, you’ll earn it.” he growled.

Zevran merely grinned. “I intend to, _carissimi_ ,” he said softly.

“Good.” Fenris said before he tugged harder and leaned in to kiss the other elf.

Invictus slicked his fingers slowly, then smiled at Zevran as he let his other hand slide down the elf’s chest, while his oiled fingers touched at his entrance, slowly. He wanted the elf to ask for it.

Zevran returned the kiss hungrily, breaking off to groan softly when he felt Invictus’ fingers brush his entrance teasingly. He drew his knees up then let his legs fall apart, opening himself up for the mage as he stared up at Fenris. “What would you have me do, _carissimi_?” he asked Fenris huskily.

Anders shifted around quietly on the other bunk until he had a clearer view, his breath coming a little faster.

"Suck Vic for now. Get him good and hard so he can fuck me while I'm deep in you." Fenris rasped.

“Hmm, that presents a challenge,” remarked Zevran. “He appears somewhat overdressed. But I enjoy challenges.” He grinned as he rolled onto his side, nuzzling Invictus’ groin before he carefully took hold of the leather thonging lacing the mage’s pants closed in his teeth and began to tug it loose.

Vic watched in fascination as Zevran undid his laces, then he helped him by shimmying out of his pants then laying back to give the elf a nice, full view.

Zevran rose to his knees and knelt between Invictus’ thighs. With his hands bound tightly in the small of his back it was harder to balance, but the blond elf merely tensed his thigh muscles as he bent over the mage’s erection, nuzzling it slowly with his aquiline nose before he lapped his tongue around the Champion’s balls. He took first one, then the other into his mouth, sucking and nibbling before pressing his tongue flat against the underside of Invictus’ cock then drawing it slowly up the length of his shaft before swirling it around the head then probing the slit delicately with the tip of his tongue, tasting the precum there. His eyes never left Invictus’ as his head lowered and then his mouth engulfed Invictus in one smooth motion down to the root.

Anders made a faint strangled noise.

Vic watched as Zevran pleasured him slowly; his breath came in short pants until he couldn't hold in his moans.

Fenris slicked himself up, then tapped Zevran between the shoulders. "Stop until I'm in you," he ordered.

Zevran obediently held still, Invictus’ cock deep in his throat.

“Wait!” said Anders, his voice slightly choked. “He’s not... Hawke didn’t prepare him yet. If you enter him now you’ll hurt him!” He had risen slightly from the bed, a worried look on his face.

"Perhaps you'd like to remedy that?" Fenris growled at Anders, and beckoned to him.

"Then keep sucking dammit," Vic moaned.

Anders got to his feet and approached slowly as the blond elf resumed his ministrations to Invictus’ cock. The blond apostate seemed uncertain as he came to stand beside the bed, but he accepted the vial of oil from Fenris without a word, glancing up into the intense green eyes of the warrior.

Fenris noted his apprehension and asked if he was alright.

Anders dropped his glance to the vial of oil. “Do you... are you sure you... want me to?” he asked very softly.

Zevran paused and straightened slightly. “You do not need to do anything you do not wish to, my friend,” he said quietly. “Would it make you uncomfortable to join our little game?”

“I’m... not sure,” said Anders quietly.

"I'd like you to, but only if you want to love." Fenris said quietly. He took the vial from Anders, dropped it on the bed and went to him.

"What do you want in all this? We can stop, or find somewhere else if you want. Be honest love."

Vic nodded in agreement before he slipped back to lean against the wall. Fun was fun, but Anders seemed upset.

“I don’t know,” confessed Anders. “Zevran is my friend, but I’m... not sure I’m ready to take things this far with him just yet.” He glanced at the blond elf. “I‘m sorry.”

“Do not be,” said Zevran gently. “You are still not quite yourself. The Anders I knew in the Wardens is not the Anders you are now, and I will not ask you to go further than you are comfortable with. Watch, if you wish; you need not touch if you would rather not.”

Fenris sat back and looked to Zevran curiously. "Would it bother you if we cut this short and resumed later?" he asked quietly. The Tevinter elf felt wrong about enjoying himself in front of Anders when the mage didn't seem to be into things any more.

“I’m sorry, I’m ruining everything,” said Anders quietly. He stared at the floor, feeling guilt eating at him. “I... need some air.” He turned and headed for the door.

Fenris grabbed his pants, struggled into them and went to the blond. "No, it's not you. Let's take a walk, let them play," he offered with a look to Invictus and Zevran.

"I'm ok with that, if he is," Vic said with worry. "Or we can rest together? In a pile on the floor?"

Anders paused by the door, one hand pressed against the wood, and then he pressed his forehead against it. He stood there silently for perhaps a minute before he pulled away and glanced at Fenris. “I just want to stand on deck and feel fresh air for a little while,” he said very quietly. “I won’t go far.”

"I'd like to go with you, please." Responded the elven warrior.

Anders nodded, defeated. He wasn’t to be allowed to be alone, it seemed.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders needs a bit of rough handling, Zev pays up his forfeit and their time at sea comes to a close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> D/s, Breathplay, Sub aftercare appear in this chapter.

Anders pulled open the door and headed up on deck, aware of Fenris like a ghost at his heels as he made his way towards the nearest railing but then stopped.

Fenris leaned against the rail and looked over the water with a sigh.

“I really did want to come with you, Anders. I trust you’re not going to jump in a fit of pique,” the elf said.

Anders deliberately stepped over to the rail, bracing his hands against it as he leaned over and took a deep breath.

Fenris wanted to grab him but didn't. His fingers twitched but he stayed where he was.

Anders stared down into the dark waters, not really seeing them. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly yet again. “I don’t seem to be able to stop saying that, but it’s true. Sorry for everything I’ve put you all through since we got on this ship, sorry I’m ruining everyone’s evening, sorry I’m just not ready for... this.” He waved a hand vaguely. 

“Sorry I can’t be the Anders that Zevran remembers, who would have leapt into bed with him in an instant. Justice may be gone but he changed so much within me and I... I can’t go back to who I was before. Too much has happened to me. He’s right; I’m not that Anders any more. I’m not even sure who this Anders is.” 

He straightened and turned to Fenris. “And I’m sorry I’ve made this all about me yet again, when this was supposed to be your evening, love. I can’t seem to stop messing everything up.”

Fenris tugged him into his arms and held Anders close to him. He looked up into the mage’s honey brown eyes and gave him a slip of a smile.

"I shouldn't have tried to rope you in, that was wrong of me. Especially after you said you were content to watch us. There's a few more days left on the ship, or maybe we save it for the return voyage. It's alright love."

Anders closed his eyes with a look of pain. “I need to get off this ship soon before it kills me,” he said under his breath. “Every moment I spend below decks, I’m fighting the feeling the walls are closing in and I can’t breathe. I come up here and all I can see is miles of water. Even up here I’m hemmed in with nowhere to go.”

Fenris gave him a squeeze before he let go, with only his hands resting on Anders waist. “I’m sorry love. Hopefully we can leave sooner than later. Do you want Vic to put you to sleep? So you can rest?” the elf offered, unsure what else he could do to help the former warden feel at ease.

Anders nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“Let’s go back, or do you want to stay up here for a while longer?” the elven warrior asked quietly.

“Stay a little longer,” Anders whispered, his eyes still closed.

“Alright.” Fenris let Anders wrap his arms around him, then closed his eyes as they stood together on the deck, his mind straying to what Vic and Zevran could have gotten up to in their absence.

**

When they finally returned to the cabin, it was to find Invictus looking remarkably like the cat who’d got the cream. He was untying Zevran’s wrists, the elf sprawled bonelessly upon the bunk, his hair plastered to his face with sweat and eyes half-lidded.

“Well I see what you got up to while we were gone,” Fenris muttered as he shut the door behind Anders and looked surprised they’d continued on without them. “Have fun?” he asked with a laugh.

Zevran lifted his head with difficulty and focused his eyes on Fenris. “I did not scream. I promised I would scream for _you_ , _carissimi_. But... it was good.”

“Only good?” Vic said archly as he wound the rope into a coil. 

“I still possess the power of speech, no?” pointed out Zevran.

“Hmmph,” Vic snorted as he rose to get a warm flannel and soap to clean them off.

“You don’t look like you can say that much, so I’d wager it was better than good,” Fenris chuckled. He slipped his hand into Anders’ and tugged the mage over to a bunk so he could rest. 

“Vic, can you put him under for a bit? Please?” the elf asked of his lover, his expression tense as he curled against the blond mage.

Anders had stripped off his shirt as he made his way to the bed, and he now lay stretched upon his back, one hand resting upon his bare chest just below the scar over his heart, the other arm around Fenris’ shoulders. His feet dangled over the end of the narrow cot as he stared up at the low ceiling.

Vic came over and pressed the tips of his first two fingers to Anders’ forehead gently and whispered his spell. He watched the other man’s eyes close slowly, saw how his chest rose and fell gently. 

“There, that will keep him out for a few hours. He’ll awake on his own after eight or twelve hours if I don’t dispel it. How was he doing out there?” Vic asked before he wiggled his fingers at Fenris as well.

Zevran had sat up and was rubbing his wrists, regarding them all thoughtfully, his gaze straying often to the sleeping apostate.

Fenris shook his head and laid back down against Anders. “I’ll sleep on my own, don’t need help,” he mumbled as he watched Vic and Zevran fumble around each other in the small room.

Zevran pulled off his boots and tugged his pants the rest of the way off before reaching down to the floor for his blanket. He stretched out upon the bed and pulled the blanket up to his waist before propping his head on his hand to watch Invictus.

Vic gave both elf and mage a gentle kiss before he pondered joining them but realized the smaller bunk didn’t even hold Anders so there was no way for him to join them. He washed himself up, then tossed a soapy flannel to the Antivan elf.

Zevran took care of himself then settled back under his blanket. He glanced over towards Fenris, then up at Invictus before he flicked back the edge of the blanket.

“There is not much of me; I am smaller than Fenris. We could share,” he suggested to the mage.

“Why not, it’s sharing or the floor,” Vic said as he crawled into the bed and sighed. “Such a long, strange day. I’m glad to be done with it for now,” he mumbled as he tried to figure how to rest without smothering the smaller elf. Zevran stretched like a cat then lowered his head to the thin pillow, lying on his side as he watched the larger man trying to fit on the narrow bunk.

“You have just fucked me thoroughly Hawke; are you nervous to touch me now?” he chuckled.

“No, just don’t want to smother you. I’m used to Anders on one side and Fenris on the other now.” Hawke replied before he gave up and flopped onto his back with a look to Zevran. “This is so strange,” he mumbled.

“I am sure this is not the strangest thing you have ever done,” said Zevran with a smile.

“Sleeping with someone I considered an enemy not that…” Vic stopped speaking when he saw Fenris’ head pop up, the elf’s expression incredulous.

“Never mind, just forget I said anything...” Vic trailed off. 

Zevran didn’t appear to take offence however. He merely shrugged. “As a Crow, I often slept with those who would have slit my throat as soon as kiss me.” He paused and considered for a moment. “Actually, often they would try. Usually the moment they thought I was asleep. Somehow I do not think you will try to kill me in my sleep.” He smiled, then shifted over onto his other side so his back was pressed against Invictus. “It will be easier to sleep like this I think, yes?”

“Yes,” Vic agreed before he awkwardly let his hand rest on Zevran’s hip for want of somewhere to rest his arm. Silently Zevran laid his hand over Invictus’, then firmly he pulled the mage’s arm around himself until Invictus’ palm rested over the slender Antivan’s heart.

Vic didn’t say anything, he just tried to relax against the elf, his mind busy comparing him and Fenris, how they felt against him. How solid his warrior felt, how small Zevran seemed to be. He finally closed his eyes and tried to sleep. Vic soon heard soft snores from the other side of the room, and tried to make his thoughts still enough to sleep.

He could feel Zevran’s body slowly relaxing, the heartbeat beneath his palm becoming slower and steady, the breathing deepening as Zevran slipped into a light sleep. 

Vic didn’t realize when he fell asleep, he just seemed to slip under from one moment to the next. And all too soon the room was warmer than before, and he awoke to blond hair, a lithe, elven face that he didn’t expect in his half-awake state. “Why’re you in m’bunk?” he slurred.

Zevran chuckled. “I believe that _you_ are in _my_ bunk,” he pointed out as he glanced at the human mage. He had shifted onto his stomach at some point in the night, his arms folded beneath the pillow, and he had opened one eye to regard the mage with amusement from behind a dishevelled fall of blond hair.

“Shit… I am.” Vic sat up and scrubbed at his face before he looked over to see Fenris and Anders had shifted to their sides and were face to face, but still sound asleep in the tiny bunk. “How can they sleep so soundly like that?” he wondered even as he stretched with a grimace.

“You put Anders to sleep with a spell last night,” pointed out Zevran. “And Fenris had fought strenuously with me before I... claimed my prize,” he added. “It is unsurprising they sleep so deeply now.” His grin deepened. “You snore.”

“I do not,” Vic protested rather loudly as he stood up to stretch the kinks from his back.

Zevran laughed. “It is true! Not as much or as loudly as Anders, perhaps, but you do.”

“I refuse to believe it,” Vic muttered before he went over to caress the blond mage’s face and press a kiss to his forehead. “Should I wake them?” he wondered out loud.

“Fenris is already awake unless I am much mistaken,” said Zevran, having noticed the small telltale signs that told him the elf had passed from sleep into a wakeful state some minutes ago though the white-haired elf gave every outward appearance of still being asleep.

“One day you will stop giving me away. Perhaps I wished to just lie here and listen. Damn your assassin instincts,” Fenris muttered.

“My ‘assassin instincts’, as you call them, are what have kept me alive this long,” mused Zevran.

“Well I wanted to lie in, not be given away as I try to relax a bit longer,” Fenris said as he slipped from the bed and curled around Invictus. “Morning, love.”

Zevran hid his face in his hair as he stretched, arching his spine backwards until it cracked and he groaned. Then he rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. “Hmm, what is this ‘lie in’ of which you speak? I do not believe I am familiar with them.” He smiled wistfully.

“Sleeping in, something I only became aware of after my escape.” Fenris said before he kissed Vic and slipped away to stretch out as well, sore as he was from his romp with the other elf. 

“Ah, I do not think I would be capable of such a thing,” said Zevran. “A Crow who lays abed soon becomes food for crows, if you get my meaning.”

“Yes, same with apostates when they have to run,” Vic said as he ran his fingers lightly over Anders brow as he tried to decide on whether to wake the other mage. Anders’ face looked peaceful in sleep, the lines of care smoothed away, leaving him looking far younger than his years. His dark blond hair had come loose from its leather tie in his sleep and fanned out across the pillow like gold silk. He seemed almost innocent and vulnerable as he lay there, unaware of the fingers that touched him, lost deep in dreams.

“I can’t wake him up now, when he looks so peaceful.” Vic leaned in and kissed his forehead before he headed to the door. “I’m off for breakfast, maybe you should claim that prize he owes you,” the dark skinned mage said with a wink before he left them alone.

Zevran stared across at the sleeping apostate. “He looks so peaceful,” he observed. “I envy him.”

“As do I, sleep that deep never comes easy to me.” Fenris admitted before he turned to face Zevran. “So we’re alone, Anders is sound asleep and I think Vic ran for it so we could finish what we started last night.”

Zevran chuckled and shook his head. “You truly are insatiable, _carissimi_ ,” he smiled.

Fenris smirked and ducked his head as he blushed. “I just know what I want, and I want you.”

Zevran fell back onto his pillow with a low groan. “At least let me eat first, yes? Hmm, are you truly mortal or did a desire demon sneak in when we were sleeping? I swear you will be the death of me, _carissimi_.”

Fenris arched an eyebrow then pushed off the bed with a brittle laugh. “I’ve been given to a desire demon, if I had been possessed nothing would dissuade me from having you Zev. Come let’s get breakfast, and maybe later we can resume.” 

Zevran sat up with a disquietened look upon his face. “You were given to a desire demon? I should not have jested so lightly of such things.”

Anders sighed in his sleep and rolled over onto his stomach, one hand falling over the edge of the low bunk to trail limply upon the floor as he nuzzled into the pillow and murmured something that might have been the white-haired elf’s name.

Fenris shrugged and went over to Anders to see if he was awake enough to join them. “You called love?”

“I think perhaps he is dreaming, _carissimi_ ,” said Zevran quietly as he swung his legs over the edge of his bunk and reached for his pants. “He is a restless sleeper I think.”

“I know he is.” Fenris answered before he gently touched Anders on the shoulder. “Wake up, you’re safe here.” the elf whispered in his ear.

Anders blinked slowly as he drifted out of his dream. He shifted his head on the pillow as he glanced at Fenris, his eyes gradually focusing. “What... was I talking in my sleep?” he asked, his voice a little slurred. “Sorry to disturb you love....”

“You didn’t disturb me at all, I heard my name so I came over to check on you.” Fenris kissed him on the cheek then moved back so the tall mage could stand. He glanced back at Zevran and wondered why he still looked so disturbed.

“What’s wrong?” the taller of the elves asked him quietly.

“You speak so casually of being given to a demon - a thing that would be straight out of most men’s nightmares,” replied Zevran slowly as he pulled on his fine Antivan boots then reached for his shirt. “I do not think that after such an experience I could speak of it so blithely. I have been... trapped once in a nightmare in the Fade myself, and the experience - it still haunts me.” He glanced away, his face shadowed.

Anders sat up, rubbing his face with one hand as he stifled a yawn. “Tevinter is a pretty deeply unpleasant place unless you’re a magister, and even then only the powerful ones,” he remarked.

“Funnily enough, it is something I can be ...blithe about as you say but other things, make me want to crawl into a hole and never come out.” Fenris shrugged his own tunic on and made for the door. “Come, I think we’re all hungry and in need of some space.”

“Give me a minute love, I’m still half-asleep,” said Anders as he tried to disentangle himself from the blanket which had become wound around his long legs as he had tossed and turned restlessly in his sleep.

“Maybe sleep a little longer?” suggested Zevran as he stood up and pulled on his leather jerkin.

“I can bring you something if you like, if you would like to go back to sleep for a while?” Fenris offered.

“I’ve slept more than half this voyage away already,” muttered Anders as he fell back onto the bed again with a low groan. “Alright, I’ll wait for you here.” He gave up trying to disentangle himself.

“We’ll be quick love.” Fenris said before he opened the door to let Zevran out. 

The slender Antivan elf nodded to Fenris as he slipped out the cabin. “He will be asleep before we return, I’ll wager,” he murmured quietly as Fenris closed the door behind them.

“It would not surprise me one bit. Hopefully once he’s had a meal we can sit on deck and find out how much longer we are stuck on this damned boat.” Fenris muttered as they went, his expression worried as they made their way to the galley. He’d not forgotten the crewman that had insulted Zevran, and hoped they didn’t see the man again before they departed the ship.

“I shall see if I can find the captain and talk to him once we have eaten,” murmured Zevran then suddenly came to a halt, his eyes narrowing. His fingers strayed to the hilt of the dagger at his waist.

“I have no luck, none at all.” Fenris said under his breath as he touched Zevran’s arm lightly. “Remember what Anders said? His life is not worth more red ink in your book Zev. You know if he winds up dead, you’ll be suspect.” Fenris said quietly in Tevene.

Zevran stared fixedly at the man who had insulted him, but after a moment his hand left the dagger. “It is well you are here, _carissimi_ , or there would be blood spilled here this morning.” He drew a deep breath.

“One shem’s life is not worth it. You know this and it will make no difference, not in the grand scheme of things.” Fenris said before he smiled deviously, lit his brands and rushed the crewman, landing on top of him with a snarl.

“If I ever hear the words knife ear out of you again, I’ll take your heart before you know you’re dead shem.” Fenris said lightly as if he had asked for the weather report.

The crew man let out a startled oath as his companions nervously shifted away from the glowing elf. “Maker take you, elf, what’s gotten into you?” muttered the man as he tried to shift the elf off his back. Zevran approached them slowly, hands held loosely at his sides, and the man’s eyes widened.

“You called my friend here a slur, one that applies to me as well. I’m not concerned with your god, just that you learn not to call us such names. Was my request not clear to you?” Fenris asked as he let his hand light up and slide into the man’s chest to the wrist.

The man stiffened and let out a gasp of agonised pain. Zevran stood in front of the man and tilted his head slightly to one side. 

“It hurts, does it not?” he said in a conversational tone. “I know it does. I have felt my friend’s particular... _gift_ before.” He leaned closer. “He tells you the truth. He could pull your heart out through your chest without breaking a sweat. Feel his fingers closing about your heart even now?” He smiled slightly as the man cried out in pain and terror. “Yes, I see you do,” Zevran purred. “If our paths cross again, pray it is my dagger that finds your heart and not his hand. I am merciful. He will not be... _shem_.”

He straightened and walked away without glancing back to see if Fenris would kill the man or let him go.

Fenris withdrew his hand quickly and followed after Zevran without another word, sure the fool would not cross them again during the remainder of their trip.

“I remember all too well the sensation of your fingers around my heart, _carissimi_ ,” said Zevran quietly as they made their way towards the galley. “Quite exquisitely painful. Not an experience I think I will ever forget. Quite the salutary lesson, I think."

Fenris shrugged in that non-committal way he had as they went into the galley. “That is the past Zevran, I would like to forget how that felt to be honest.” he said as he went over to Invictus and kissed him gently. 

“I thought you’d be otherwise occupied still.” Vic murmured as he watched both elves fill their plates and sit at the small table.

“Zevran was hungry and we promised to take Anders something. He’s still groggy and couldn’t quite wake up enough to join us.” Fenris said between bites.

“Did he seem alright? Or too out of it to really talk with you?” Vic asked as he worked on his third mug of tea for the morning.

“He was talking in his sleep; he woke when Fenris touched him, but I do not think he was quite ready to leave dreams,” replied Zevran as he tucked into his food. “I do not doubt that we will find him sleeping again when we return.” His glance roamed over the faces of crew members in the galley as he spoke, and suddenly he laid down his fork. “Ah, the captain. Wait here; I shall ascertain the likelihood of our departure today should conditions be favourable.” The Antivan rose from his seat and threaded his way through the throng.

“I’d murder to get off the ship today or tomorrow.” Fenris said after he’d finished off his plate. 

“I think Anders would too. The crew will be glad to see the backs of us I’d wager too.” Vic responded as he watched Zevran chat with the Captain.

The elf returned shortly with a broad grin. “It is well; there is a small cove just along the coast that we shall reach in about four hours. It is too shallow for this ship, but the ship’s boat will set us ashore.” He dropped back into his seat to finish off his food. “We should wake Anders with the good news, yes?” he added as he mopped up the last of his food with a piece of bread. “And some strong tea.”

“I’ll get him a plate, if one of you can get him some tea.” Vic offered as he rose to drop his mug off to the scullion. 

Zevran quirked an eyebrow at Fenris as he finished off the last of his food.

Fenris leered at the other elf before he asked Vic to take Anders his breakfast, since he wanted more. “Do you mind? You can wake him through other means whereas we cannot.” 

“It’s fine, just give yourselves enough time to pack up and get off this ship in four hours time.” Invictus shook his head at them, sure they had other appetites they wanted to sate before they left for land.

“The day I take four hours... pfah,” muttered Zevran under his breath as he reached for his mug of tea.

“I think he was trying to be subtle Zevran. Vic ...seems to have accepted whatever it is we want to call things between us and is encouraging it while we have some time.” Fenris said quietly.

“Names and labels are so limiting, I find,” said Zevran noncommittally, his eyes not meeting those of Fenris as he cradled his hands around his mug.

“What would you call this then?” Fenris waved lazily between them, though his gaze was intense.

“I call this a conversation over the remains of breakfast before we go find somewhere where we can make good on my promise to scream for you, yes?” Zevran’s quick grin was slightly nervous as his eyes slid to Fenris’ then darted away again.

“You’re avoiding the question Zev.” Fenris said in Tevene as he tried to get the other elf to look at him.

“So I am,” said Zevran softly, his gaze now on the surface of the tea in his mug. “Perhaps I have my reasons, _carissimi_.”

Fenris nodded, his decision not to push the issue made with the way Zevran refused to look at him and his tone. “Let’s find somewhere private then, for other matters?” 

Zevran set his mug down unfinished as he finally met Fenris’ stare and his answering smile was easy and friendly. “Lead on!” he declared.

**

As Zevran had predicted, Invictus found Anders fast asleep once more, sprawled upon his back on the narrow cot, one leg hanging over the side of the bunk and the other foot dangling over the end, the blanket twisted around his legs.

Vic put the tray down and nudged at the blond’s shoulder. “Wake up, I’ve got food and good news.”

Anders’ soft snores paused as his breath hitched in his throat and then the apostate turned his face away slightly, frowning before he opened his eyes. He glanced around, confused for a moment, until he turned his head and saw Invictus.

“Huh?” was his less than witty response.

“Food...good news.” Vic said slowly as he retrieved the tray and sat it on his lap so Anders could pluck food from it.

Anders levered himself up on his elbows and stared at the tray, then struggled upright and reached for the mug of tea. “Sorry,” he yawned as he rubbed his eyes. “Finding it hard to wake up this morning. You said something about good news?”

“Yes, in four hours we’ll be on a small boat and hopefully on land not long after that. So we will be done with sailing for a while. The hard part will be not getting our throats slit in Antiva.” Vic said as he watched Anders struggle awake. “Want a bit of help coming around?” he offered.

“Please,” nodded Anders. “I can’t string two thoughts together coherently enough to cast anything right now.”

Vic laid his hand on the other mage’s forehead, let his own power flow through Anders to dispel the last bits of sleep that clung to the mage like fog. “Better?”

Anders nodded as he opened his eyes again. “Much, thank you.” He glanced at the tray. “Is this all for me?”

“Yes, you’ve hardly had a full meal this whole voyage. Eat.” Vic pressed a bowl of stew at him and a thick slice of bread.

“Maker, I’m starving,” said Anders as he took it and began wolfing the stew down with something like his old appetite.

“Good, don’t make yourself sick though.” Vic said as he watched Anders eat as if he’d just discovered food.

Anders paused only long enough to swallow and nod his head before he reached for the bread.

“But yes, we are finally getting off this gods forsaken tub. Once Zevran and Fenris work out whatever the fuck is between them.” Vic said tiredly before he snagged a bit of potato from Anders plate.

“Didn’t you eat?” asked Anders as he mopped up stew with the bread before devouring it, licking gravy off his fingers.

“Yes, earlier. I left them to their own devices but apparently food was more important. How are you feeling now that you’ve gotten some sleep and a proper meal?” 

“Moderate,” said Anders. “More human, at least. I’ll feel even better once I get off this boat.” He reached for his mug again, apparently unwilling to discuss the two elves.

“What happened when you and Fenris left last night? If you want to talk about it, that is.” Vic asked, unsure about whether the other mage wanted to talk about his problems or just move on.

Anders set the mug down and twisted his fingers together in his lap, staring down at his hands. “We talked a little,” he said quietly. “I’m still trying to figure myself out. Zevran hit the nail on the head - I’m not the Anders he remembers. That Anders was... very different. He probably would have jumped into bed with the three of you without a second thought. But even though Justice is gone, he... changed me. I’m still trying to figure it out. And until I do, I don’t think I can ... go that far with Zevran.” He lifted his eyes slowly, his expression troubled.

“I’m sure he understands love. This trip has been hard on all of us, and I don’t know if I could have stood to see you with him. I don’t know why, but it might have messed with my head. It’s wrong, I know and it’s petty, but it’s hard enough...knowing Fenris sees something in him. I’ve accepted it, doesn’t mean I’m ready to let him move in and make it a quartet.” Vic admitted quietly as he shifted the tray to the floor and held Anders to him.

Anders frowned a little as he rested his head on Invictus’ shoulder. “But you seemed happy to play with him yourself,” he said quietly.

“I know, I know. It’s just...we almost lost you and I don’t want you hurt. I…” Vic took a deep breath and turned so he spoke in Anders ear, softly almost like he didn’t want to speak of his heart but knew he owed the other mage an explanation. 

“Mother’s death really did a number on me, and nearly losing you has made me even more protective of you. I didn’t want you hurt if we...we played too rough with each other. I’m sorry, it’s hypocritical but I want you safe to the point of being a mother hen about it right now.” Vic kissed the shell of his ear and pulled back slightly, worried about how Anders might react to his revelation.

Anders pulled back a little. “I’m not made of glass, love,” he said and tried to smile. “Maybe sometimes I _like_ it a little rough. But... I think I understand.” He stroked the side of Invictus’ face with his fingertips then pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

“I’m guessing that’s what you and Fenris got up to before I showed what a fool I am?” Vic asked before he kissed Anders again, with more intent if he was willing.

Anders gave him a lopsided smile. “Sometimes I need rough handling to take me out of myself for a while,” he nodded. “Sometimes... it almost scares me how much I need and crave it. Justice did not approve and never let me indulge, but without him around... with everything that’s been going on, I just needed something to help me stop thinking for a little while.”

“Like what? If you want to talk about it, I’m all ears, or hands if need be.” Invictus said huskily before he leaned over to nuzzle at Anders with a low rumble. “Like Fenris used to use me? Something different? I miss that you know.”

Anders arched his neck a little. “Biting... for a start,” he murmured, and tilted his head a little to one side in mute invitation. 

Vic smiled and bit down on the long, pale neck, hard enough to mark but not enough to make Anders bleed. Anders cried out and clutched at the other mage, shuddering as he closed his eyes. 

“Lightning,” he breathed.

“Sure about that? I nearly scrambled your brain last time I tried that.” Vic muttered before he bit the other side of his neck.

“I am very sure,” breathed Anders. “Please.”

Vic let lightning trail over his fingertips before he trailed them over Anders lips, then down his chest to tweak his nipples with a hint of power. “Like that?” he asked breathily before he let sparks flare again.

Anders twitched and jerked in his arms, making little gasping cries at each touch of electricity. “More,” he begged. “Harder. Shock me.”

“Dangerous…” Vic murmured before he let his palm rest on Anders chest and let a bit more power flow through him. “Don’t...wanna kill you. Warn me, ok?” the Champion rasped.

Anders’ spine arched backwards as his eyes rolled back, his vision whiting out briefly as the electricity raced through his body. He groaned, his eyelids fluttering. “Th-that,” he breathed.

Vic pulled his hand away and held Anders head up so he could see his expression. “That what? Did I hurt you?” 

“A little,” breathed Anders, panting. “Felt so good though. Oh Maker....” His eyes fluttered open and he regarded Invictus with dark, smouldering eyes. “More,” he pleaded.

With a certain feeling of misgiving and yet, if he admitted to it, a certain growing excitement, Invictus did as he asked and let a stronger pulse of lightning flash through Anders’ body.

Anders’ body arched backwards again as he convulsed briefly, eyes rolling back until only the whites could be seen, his mouth wide open in a silent scream. Invictus snatched his hand away and Anders groaned, low and huskily.

“That’s a bit much for me.” Vic rasped and snapped the remaining lightning away from his fingers. “Something else?” he asked worriedly.

Anders panted, his chest heaving, opening his eyes to stare up at Invictus. “Take me,” he whispered.

“Oil first...or you call up some slick.” Vic said.

Anders lifted a hand and closed his eyes, concentrating, and then his hand filled with a clear oily liquid. “Gotta teach you this one some time,” he muttered.

Vic took his pants off and fumbled until he had Anders own pants down enough to take him. He transferred some of the slick to his own fingers before he growled in the other mages ear. “On your hands and knees, use that on yourself first.”

Anders rolled over onto his hands and knees then reached back to stretch himself, working two fingers in and out of himself, craning his neck to look back over his shoulder at Invictus. The two bite marks stood out livid against his pale skin.

“Fuck…you look good like that.” Vic moaned as he tugged Anders pants fully off then moved his fingers away so he could open him further. “How do you want it?” he snarled at the blond.

“Hard and rough,” said Anders, his voice a little ragged. “Your hand around my throat. Fuck me into the mattress.” He braced his hands on the edge of the bunk frame as he pushed back onto Invictus’ hands with a needy moan. 

“Better on your back or like this since you want my hands around that slender neck of yours?” Vic asked as he curled his fingers in a come hither gesture before he twisted them to make Anders moan for him.

Anders shuddered and moaned. “O-on... m-my back,” he managed to gasp. “P-please, Hawke....”

Invictus pulled his fingers out and waited for Anders to turn over before he wiped his hand off on the corner of the blanket. He wrapped the other mages long legs around his waist as he entered him, a low moan of pleasure coming from him until he was fully inside his lover. 

He wrapped his hand around Anders throat and pressed gently as he started to stroke, his gaze on the other man for any sign he was going to pass out under him. 

Anders let his head drop back until it hung over the end of the bunk and groaned, feeling Invictus filling him almost unbearably full. He could feel a burn inside as the other mage began to pump into him but it was just the pleasurable side of painful. He smiled as he felt Invictus’ fingers close around his throat. “Harder,” he urged between panting breaths, canting his hips so the other man’s thrusts would reach deeper inside him.

Vic obliged him, snapping his hips harder and faster while he pressed his hand harder against the blond’s throat. “Beg me…” he growled in Anders’ ear.

“Hawke,” whimpered Anders, his breath hitching in his chest as the fingers around his throat made breathing harder. “Please... h-harder... I need....” He moaned as his own erection was trapped between their bodies, leaking precum as the other mage pounded into him. “Tighter... Hawke, please....” His gaze was unfocused, his eyes dark and glazed over as he felt himself slipping into a semi-trance like state, warm and floating despite the discomfort of his body.

Invictus squeezed hard as he dared and let his strokes go fast as he could, deep as he could, a low groan escaping him every time he brushed that spot deep inside the other mage. “Beautiful...so fucking beautiful.” he whispered as he got closer to coming.

Anders couldn’t breathe, his chest aching from the pressure, the urge of breath denied. He opened his eyes wide, black stars bursting around the edge of his vision, his body almost overwhelmed by sensation as his climax surged closer and closer. His mouth gaped wider in a silent cry as his body shivered beneath Invictus, his fingers twisted tight into the blanket beneath him. He was distantly aware of a faint roaring noise in his ears as his eyes began to roll back.

And then he was coming hard, his body clenching tight around Invictus’ member thrusting deep inside him as his spine arched and his body spasmed, riding out the throes of his orgasm. He couldn’t breathe, his heart racing, and his eyes began to slide closed, only the whites visible.

Vic let go of Anders throat as he his own climax took him over the edge, he knew he was moaning as he stilled over the blond mage. He fell over panting, and hadn’t heard the door to their cabin opening, nor the exclamations from the elves in their group. 

“Please tell me you have not just killed our healer?” said Zevran as he stared at the sight of Invictus slumped, panting hard, over the motionless form of the blond apostate who lay with his head thrown back over the end of the bunk, eyes half-lidded, only the whites of his eyes visible as a faint wheezing sound issued quietly from his bruised throat.

“No...he’s just been fucked senseless is all.” Vic muttered as he rolled off of Anders and tried to catch his breath.

Zevran moved to the bed and slid his arms beneath the half-conscious mage, lifting him back onto the bed then checking his pulse and breathing. “A dangerous game if you are unused to playing, my friend,” he said softly.

“We’ve done this before, he’ll be alright.” Fenris said as he came over to Vic’s side. “You alright?” the elf asked as he took in how Vic was panting softly as he laid there.

“Yes, check on Anders. He really...wanted me to go farther this time.” the Champion slurred.

Anders moaned faintly, his eyes fluttering open as Zevran rolled him onto his side, tilting his head back a little to make it easier for him to breathe. “Oh... Maker... needed that,” he whispered hoarsely.

“You realize it looked like Vic was murdering you when we walked in.” Fenris asked softly.

Anders glanced up at Fenris. “But you know he wouldn’t,” he panted. “Can... appreciate... it probably looked bad....”

“I know, get what you needed love?” Fenris asked before he leaned down to kiss Anders gently.

Zevran gently rubbed Anders’ back as the mage nodded. Anders’ eyes were still dark, his gaze unfocused and dreamy. “Don’t try to talk yet,” said the Antivan quietly. “Fenris, water and a flannel please? He is not fully awake yet.”

“I am, I’m....” The way Anders’ voice tailed off belied how out of it he still was. He didn’t flinch as Zevran gently probed the bite marks and bruises with his fingertips, then his fingers reached lower to brush over the shadowy bloom of blood under the surface of the skin upon Anders’ chest. The elf glanced at Invictus.

“Lightning?” he asked softly.

“Yes just what he asked for, I wouldn’t hurt him on purpose.” Vic said defensively.

Zevran nodded. “Just so,” he said quietly as he accepted the bowl of water and clean cloths from Fenris. He gently cleaned Anders up then lifted Anders’ head slightly as he slipped a pillow beneath the blond apostate’s head before tugging the blanket up and covering Anders up as the mage began to shiver slightly. “Invictus, Fenris, he needs you both. One of you should lie down with him and hold him.” The Antivan gently stroked Anders’ hair as he crouched down near the head of the bunk. “Easy, you are safe and loved, my friend,” he murmured gently.

Vic stretched out and curled up next to Anders, his hold protective. “We’ve got you love.” he murmured in his ear.

Zevran gestured for Fenris to sit near the head of the bunk where Anders could see him. “Hold his hand, _carissimi_ ,” he murmured as he went to fill a glass with water.

Fenris did as requested and laced his fingers with Anders, his thumb brushing over the back of the apostate’s hand softly. “Did Vic give you want you need love, what you wanted?”

Anders’ eyes focused on the elf and he nodded slowly. His gaze flicked to Zevran as the other elf returned and handed the glass of water to Fenris. 

“Help him drink,” Zevran said softly. He turned away and knelt by his pack, hunting through it until he found a small package; pulling it open, he produced a few small wafers of golden biscuit which he handed to the other elf. “Let him nibble these; they are Orlesian honey wafers. Something sweet will help him recover after such an expenditure of energy,” he explained, before turning away to start packing up his things.

Fenris helped Anders but kept glancing at Zevran, curious as to how he knew such things. 

Vic continued to speak soft and low to Anders while he nibbled on the crackers and was helped to drink. “Thanks for trusting me.” Invictus said to him, his gaze very intense as he watched for signs he was coming back to himself. 

Anders shifted slightly on the bunk, rolling over onto his back as he turned to Invictus. “Thank you for giving me what I needed and taking me as far as I wanted,” he said huskily.

“Any time love, any time. I’ll stay with you for a bit while Fenris packs.” he murmured.

After a little while, Anders had come back to himself enough to sit up and stuff his blanket back in his pack with help from Invictus. He got dressed then sat on his bunk lacing his boots slowly as the others finished getting their equipment together.

“So we’re finally getting off this boat?” he said hopefully as Zevran handed him his staff. The Antivan grinned in answer.

“Praise the Maker, yes.” Fenris said as he slung his pack over his shoulder to test the balance with his sword strapped on as well.

Vic finished lacing his vambraces before he started on his boots. “I don’t think I’ll be happier to see land than when we get off on shore.” 

“We should go on deck,” said Zevran as the ship suddenly shuddered and heeled slightly over to the port side as the shouts of crew came muffled down to them in the cabin. “They are reefing in the sails and dropping anchor; we must be very near the cove.”

“Let’s get off this thing.” Fenris said before he followed behind Zevran, with Anders and Invictus behind him.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zev's turn to find out you can't go home again, Fenris doesn't travel well and Anders hates being coddled. So another standard day for our party!

Fenris was first off the small boat, followed by Anders, Invictus and Zevran who nodded to the crew members who had rowed them ashore. A few coins changed hands and then the crew turned around and started heading back towards the ship.

Once the boat was docked, the taller elf sat down on shore and groaned. “After so long on the water, I feel dizzy now that we’re on land.” 

Anders stumbled after him through the surf, managed a few staggering strides up the beach and promptly sprawled on the ground. “The ground is swaying!” he groaned. 

Zevran laughed as he strode comfortably up onto the beach and glanced around, seemingly unaffected by the way the ground seemed to pitch and roll beneath the others.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have had such a big lunch.” Fenris moaned before he turned over and crawled to a bush so he could sick up.

Vic managed to stand up with no additional help but he still looked a little green as he winced from the sound of Fenris retching.

Anders buried his head in his arms and tried to ignore the sounds coming from Fenris’ direction. Zevran merely chuckled and strode over to Anders, bending down to tug the mage to his feet. “The potion you made for seasickness will also help land-sickness, my friend,” he said with a wink.

Anders sighed, dusted damp sand off his coat and then hunted through his pack for the small green potions he’d brewed for their voyage. He handed two to Invictus then downed a third himself.

Vic drank half of his and capped it for later, then went over to where Fenris had flopped on his back and looked paler than normal. “Here love, this will help”

Fenris sat up and took the potion, the colour came back to him and he got to his feet slowly. “Now what?” he asked slowly.

“Now the fun begins!” replied Zevran. He turned and led the way up the beach towards the base of the cliffs and a stony path that wound up away from the cove.

“I somehow doubt his idea of ‘fun’ tallies with ours,” groaned Anders as he unslung his staff and leaned on it to make his way after the Antivan elf; he felt a little steadier with it in his hand for balance.

“You have strange ideas of fun.” Fenris muttered as he fell in between Anders and Invictus.

Anders made an odd strangled noise and stumbled.

Vic caught him and smiled softly. “Careful love.”

Anders muttered something about not having his land legs back as he blushed, ducking his head to hide behind his hair.

“Stop blushing, it contrasts with your hair.” Fenris muttered as he walked past them, but he did get a swat on each mage’s arse as he went by. 

Anders stopped for a moment, staring at Fenris, then slowly followed, his expression unreadable.

“What’s got into him?” Vic said in surprise as they walked.

“Me,” called back Zevran without glancing back at them.

Fenris stumbled and tripped right into the other elf with a choked noise. 

Vic stopped in his tracks and laughed at his lover. Anders turned his face away; he appeared to be having a coughing fit.

Fenris straightened up and walked behind the other elf, his head down and his cheeks red. 

Vic caught up and wrapped his arm around the Tevinter elf’s waist as he continued to laugh. “You ok there love?”

Anders dropped into the rear of their little group, still coughing. He kept his head down, unable to look at either elf.

Fenris didn’t look at them or talk any more until Zevran slowed down and stopped once the city gates came into view, farther down the road. 

“We will need supplies for our journey, and preferably a faster means of travel than our feet,” said Zevran thoughtfully as he eyed the city. “It will not be safe however; I have many enemies here in Antiva, and most would leap at the chance to put an end to me.”

“So what are our options then?” Fenris asked quietly as the others drew up behind him. 

Anders frowned a moment, then closed his eyes and concentrated. Zevran blinked and put his hand to his head. “I feel... dizzy... what are you -” the Antivan began then dropped his hand.

His face had changed. The golden eyes were now a piercing blue, the dusky skin now pale, and the pale blond hair was jet-black. Gone was the tattoo down his face, and his features only superficially resembled the former Crow.

“I’m not sure how long the spell will last,” said Anders. “I’ve not had a lot of practice at illusions; it was something the apprentices played at in the Tower for amusement but I’ve not played like that for many years. I think it will hold as long as I’m concentrating on it though.”

“Interesting, we will make sure you don’t need to hold that for long.” Fenris said as he stared at Zevran in an attempt to see through the illusion. 

“What’s your name then? Since Zevran is probably going to negate any kind of advantage that glamour gives us.” Vic asked.

Zevran had drawn one of his daggers and was studying his reflection in it, touching fingertips to his face wonderingly. “Most uncanny. A very useful little trick,” he mused softly.

“He is Niemand,” said Anders stiffly. Zevran’s head jerked up and he stared at Anders, then uttered a bark of laughter. “Niemand! Yes, very good. I like it! Very well, Niemand I shall be.” He turned and began walking towards the city, sheathing his dagger.

Fenris and Vic looked at each other in confusion. “Anders, what gives with the name,” Invictus asked as he trotted to catch up. with the others.

“It’s as much his name as ‘Anders’ is mine,” said Anders quietly, his tone distracted as he stared at the elf.

Fenris looked up at him for a moment then pulled him down into a kiss briefly. 

Anders blinked and looked down at the elf, eyes still distracted, part of his mind still intent upon the spell. “Hmm? What was that for?” he asked.

“Just because.” Fenris said before he went after Zevran.

Anders shook his head briefly, then followed on behind them.

They soon passed under the gates of the city. Zevran seemed to be quite familiar with the place and led them to an area where the houses were a little shabbier and run-down, the people a little harder of face, and the signs swinging outside the inns and taverns more worn and faded. He led them to one particular in and went to the bar to speak to the innkeeper.

Anders sank into a nearby seat, looking worn. “Will we be staying here long, do you think?” he wondered.

“Not too long, I feel like a target is on my chest.” Fenris said under his breath.

“Likely not as much as - as Niemand does,” said Anders, frowning slightly. The Antivan elf was making his way back across the room towards them.

“Two rooms,” the slender elf told them. “They adjoin however, and I paid extra for doors with locks. Come.” He turned to lead them upstairs.

“Us together and you and Vic in the other room for appearances sake?” Fenris asked once they had entered the first rented room.

Anders shrugged. “As long as there’s a bed I don’t care where I sleep,” he admitted, watching as Zevran made his way over to another door on the far side of the room he was to share with Fenris.

“The two rooms are side by side; we can come and go between as we wish,” said Zevran as he pushed the door open to show another room. “It can be locked from either side or left open as we wish.”

Anders nodded tiredly and followed through to the next room. He stared at the two beds in the room and then shrugged, dropping his pack at the end of the nearest one and laying his staff down on the floor just beneath it before dropping face down onto the bed.

Fenris went back out to find Invictus had slumped down to the bed in the other room and was on his back, his whole body limp in exhaustion. Fenris dropped his pack and crawled into bed next to him with a huff. “I hate traveling.” he muttered against Vic’s chest.

“We all do I think.” Invictus said, already half-asleep.

Zevran raised an eyebrow but said nothing as he picked up his pack and made his way into the other room. He glanced over at Anders, who was now snoring softly, his face buried in the pillow, his booted feet dangling over the end of the cot. The elf shrugged, dropped his pack at the end of the other bed, and then sat down to remove his own boots.

Fenris left the door open, since he was comfortable and was soon dozing lightly, but not as deeply as he normally would while at Vic’s side.

He was stirred from sleep by a light tap at the door.

Fenris sat up and grabbed his sword on his way to the door. He didn’t open it, but put his weight against it before he called out. “What is it?”

“Dinner, messere,” called back a female voice.

“Leave it outside the door, I’ll get it in a moment.” Fenris replied. 

“Are you sure, messere? There are two trays - perhaps you could help me? I can just put them on the table in your room messere?” There was a faint sound as though someone were trying to adjust a tray, the scrape of cutlery as it slipped across a wooden surface.

Fenris turned and called to Zevran by his other name. “Did you order anything?”

There was a noise from the other room, a scuff of a booted foot upon the floor, and then the sound of breaking glass.

“It is a distraction!” yelled Zevran, above the muffled sound of Anders yelling in startlement and then the unmistakable pull of magic upon Fenris’ brands and the sharp smell of ozone as someone screamed in agony.

“Son of a bitch.” Fenris swore as he kept his weight against the door. 

Invictus rolled to his feet, a spell at the ready when he heard the screaming. “What, what the fuck?” 

Zevran swore from the other room, and there was a grunt of pain that might have come from Anders as a body hit the wooden floor heavily.

“Anders? Niemand?” Fenris called out again.

“We could use a hand in here,” called Anders. “There’s-” His voice broke off as something heavy hit the door between the two rooms.

“Hawke!” called the other elf.

Invictus ran into the room, ice spell on his fingertips. “What in the Void?”

The window at the other side of the room was smashed in, the shutters hanging drunkenly from their hinges. Three bodies lay on the floor, and Anders was backed up against the wall, struggling with a fourth man who had grasped the mage’s left wrist with one hand as with the other he struggled to drive a dagger into the mage’s throat; Anders was trying to force his hand away with his free hand, his arm trembling from the strain. His right shirt sleeve was red with blood, which also ran down the side of his face. The would-be assassin’s forearm was encased in ice but still he was bent on trying to drive his blade into the mage’s unprotected throat.

Across the room, Zevran was pinned to the wooden wall by a crossbow bolt through his shoulder; two of the dead bodies lay at his feet. The Antivan elf was struggling to free himself from the bolt and steadily swearing in a mixture of Antivan, Tevene and Orlesian. 

Fenris came in once he’d wedged a chair under the door. He sprang up and pulled the man who was on top of Anders away with a snarl. He plunged his fist through the man’s chest and snarled at him for answers as the blond apostate slumped against the wall, clutching his bloodied arm.

Vic went over to help Zevran. “Hold still, let me freeze this so it can just break off and not do any more damage.” 

Zevran stopped struggling but cried out as the crossbow bolt froze, the cold metal agonising in his bloody wound. He bit his lip, his face pale and sweating.

“On three, I’m going to shatter it.” Vic counted to three then snapped the bolt and caught Zevran as he fell forward.

Anders pushed his way over to their side and reached for the former Crow. “Sit him down, let me fix this,” he said, forgetting for the moment his own injuries. Blood ran down his arm from a couple of slash wounds that had ripped open the sleeve of his shirt at bicep and shoulder, and a nasty gash over his right eye was bleeding freely down the side of his face.

Fenris shouted at the man pinned under him but the assassin could only open and close his mouth like a landed fish. “Bah, he’s useless.”

Anders had his hands on Zevran’s shoulder and was healing him, the former Crow’s face ashen as Invictus guided him back to the bed and helped him sit down. “They came through the window shortly after the knock on your door,” he said quietly. “Two made for Anders, the crossbowman shot me just before Anders’ lightning bolt rebounded and got him. I dealt with those other two but couldn’t get to the last one in time before he went for Anders.” He glanced at the blond apostate as Anders continued to heal him. “I am sorry I could not stop him in time before he hurt you, my friend.”

Anders shook his head. “Doesn’t matter, Fenris got him in time. Who were they?”

“I do not know,” said Zevran. “Perhaps we will be able to question the last one when Fenris’ hand is not around his heart.”

Vic tugged Fenris’ collar and coaxed the elf to withdraw his hand but not get off the human rogue. “Now, perhaps you’ll tell us who sent you or he’ll finish the job of going for your heart.”

“I am a dead man anyway,” replied the man, his voice heavily accented. “It makes no difference, now or later. Better now!” He suddenly bit down hard on something in his mouth and then his body stiffened, his eyes wide open as he made a strangled, gasping sound and then went limp, eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling.

“Venhedis!” Fenris swore as he rose and started to pace the room. “Not here a damned day and an attempt on our lives.” 

Zevran rolled his shoulder experimentally as Anders finished healing him, then grasped the blond apostate's unharmed shoulder as he cupped Anders' chin, turning his face to one side to inspect the gash.

"Is there poison in the cut?" Vic asked as he watched Fenris circle the room, his body coiled, tense in case they were attacked again.

"Crows? Whoever was after you in Kirkwall, who could have been after us this soon?" The warrior said as he paced in a slow circle.

“I said I had many enemies, yes?” said Zevran quietly as he dabbed at the gash with a handkerchief. He narrowed his eyes. “You should heal yourself, friend Anders,” he suggested. “I do not think it was poisoned.”

Anders pulled away with a slight frown, putting his hand to his head as he focused and drew on his healing magic as the Antivan drew a knife and slit away the ruined remains of the mage’s shirt. He eyed the cuts to shoulder and arm critically then pulled a small vial of clear liquid from a belt pouch. Uncorking it, he dribbled a little of the fluid into the cut upon Anders’ arm.

Anders flinched with a gasp. “What are you -” he began and then bit back a cry.

“These, I think, were poisoned,” said the former Crow.

“I felt nothing,” said Anders through gritted teeth.

“Nor would you, even as you bled to death,” replied Zevran evenly. He lifted the vial to pour a little of the contents into the shoulder wound, and Anders tensed but did not cry out as the clear liquid splashed into the open wound.

“I know it is unpleasant, but a little pain now is nothing to what you would feel if I left these untreated, believe me,” said the elf as he corked the vial and tucked it away.

Anders nodded grimly before laying his hand over the cut in his shoulder and healing it.

“So the glamour was for nothing.” Fenris snarled as he finally sat next to Invictus but flinched away from his touch. “Not now, I don’t want anyone touching me right now.” the elf hissed.

“Sorry love.” Vic muttered as he looked at Anders. 

“So now what? We clearly were expected.” Vic muttered.

“They went for Anders first,” said Zevran as he brushed the loose dark gold hair back out of Anders’ eyes, studying the healed cut over the apostate’s eye before rising to fetch washing water and a cloth. Returning, he started to wash the blood from Anders’ face as the mage finished healing the cuts. Anders sat quietly as Zevran cleaned him up, his exhausted eyes not lifting from the floor.

“Why though?” Vic said as he sat with Anders and leaned away from Fenris while he was being so prickly.

“That is a very good question,” said Zevran, drying Anders’ arm with a towel before carding the damp hair back out of Anders’ face, glancing again at the healed wound. He took Anders’ chin firmly in his hand and turned the mage to face him, holding up three fingers. “How many do you see?” he asked.

“Three,” replied Anders dully, and Zevran nodded, relieved that at least their healer didn’t appear to be concussed.

Fenris stopped in his tracks as he remembered something the other Hawke had said. “Didn’t Arden mention something about his Anders being the subject of interest by both the Imperial and Orlesian led Chantries?”

Anders lifted his head. “Oh no. No, no, no,” he groaned. “Not that. I dreamed what he went through - I felt what he experienced. They nearly performed the Rite of Tranquility on him!”

“You’re not even possessed any more, so there’s no reason to take you.” Fenris muttered angrily. “Not there is a good reason but still.” 

“But do they know that?” asked Anders, panic rising visibly.

“You’d think so, considering all the hassle they’ve gone through. But if you are no longer possessed yet still alive and sane, then their interest might have been increased. Imagine the chaos that would reign if magisters could use demons at will and cast them out. So either they are after you, or Zevran or all of us.” Fenris slumped further in his seat and let out a long, slow breath. 

Anders leapt to his feet and backed away, white-faced. “No... I daren’t let them get their hands on me... Maker, what am I going to do? This place is likely watched. They could try again. They likely _will_. Both Chantries....” He whimpered, remembering all too clearly just what the magister and the Imperial templars had put the other Anders through.

“They won’t get you, we’ll be sure of it.” Fenris said. 

“None of us will. We just need to make sure our stay in Antiva is short and sweet.” Vic chimed in.

Zevran leaned over to Invictus. “He is growing hysterical. You should put him under or he will draw attention - and none of us will get any sleep.” He got to his feet and mover to stand in front of Anders, resting his hands on the blond mage’s shoulders.

“Come, my friend, it is late and you are tired; you should not think on these things now,” he said soothingly, guiding the mage away from the wall where he’d backed himself. He deftly manouvered Anders until his back was to the other mage.

Invictus sent a sleep spell winging over to the other mage and sighed as he slumped into the Antivan’s arms. “I didn’t think Antiva would be fun, but this is ridiculous. I’ll take watch, you two try to sleep a bit.”

“Sleep will not come for me love, you should rest while you can.” Fenris said tiredly. 

Zevran hauled the unconscious mage over to his bed and laid him down, arranging his long limbs upon the narrow cot before covering him over with the blanket. Then he stared down at the dead bodies and sighed, hands on his hips. He grasped the nearest one beneath the armpits and dragged it over towards the broken window. Peering out, he checked the street was clear before pushing the body out, climbing out afterwards.

He returned several minutes later to dispose of the next body. It was perhaps half an hour later he returned for the third body, looking tired but grimly determined. When he returned for the fourth body, he paused to fetch a stamina potion from his pack. Downing it swiftly, he grimaced at the taste then set about removing the last body.

When he finally returned some two hours later, Invictus was fast asleep. Fenris helped Zevran back through the window as the former Crow stumbled.

“You’re soaking wet!” exclaimed the white-haired warrior. Zevran waved him off wordlessly, reaching for dry clothes from his pack. He spread out his soaking wet clothes to dry, donned a clean dry shirt and pants, then dropped onto his own bed and was asleep in moments, never uttering a word of explanation to the other elf.

Fenris tossed a blanket on top of him and took up his vigil again in the chair nearest the bed, his hand on the pommel of his sword and his gazed darted between all points of entry to their room.

Despite the sleep spell, Anders was restless in his sleep, and perhaps an hour after Zevran dropped into his own exhausted slumber the blond apostate cried out softly in his sleep, flinging one arm out over the side of the narrow cot as he jerked.

Fenris sat up went to Anders, cautious about touching him when he was asleep. “Anders...wake up.” he called softly.

Anders writhed in the bed, tangled up in the blanket as his whimpered. “No, no - please, no, not that!” he begged. In the faint candlelight, Fenris could see the unconscious mage’s face was wet with tears. 

“Anders! You’re with us, no one is doing anything to you, wake up.” Fenris said, loudly but still not touching him.

Anders was panting in distress, head tossing from side to side on the pillow, lost in his nightmare as he moaned, legs thrashing in an attempt to free himself from the confines of the blankets. He began to scream.

Zevran woke with a start, rolling out of his bed and coming to his feet in a low crouch, a dagger in each hand and his eyes blank and empty.

Invictus sat up at the sound of Anders screaming and came over to him and curled around the blond mage in order to soothe him. “Anders...it’s ok, we’re here, we’ve got you. No one is going to hurt you love. We’re here.”

Zevran slowly came back to himself, waking up fully as the surge of adrenaline eased. He straightened, glancing down at the blades in his hands then at the blond mage caught in the throes of his nightmare.

“Your spell has him trapped in his nightmare,” he said quietly, his voice a little rough and ragged. Anders was struggling in Invictus’ grasp, sobbing and begging for him to stop.

Vic nodded and recalled the spell he’d put on Anders to get him to sleep earlier. “There, that should let him wake up.”

“Stop, stop, please stop, stop it hurts, please... please....” Anders’ voice trailed off as his eyes opened, unfocused.

“No one is hurting you, wake up Anders.” Fenris said to him with a worried look at Invictus.

Anders fell silent save for his shuddering breaths as they hitched in his throat, and he finally stopped struggling. He curled up in a ball, burying his face in his arms as he sobbed silently.

Zevran threw the daggers down onto his bed then made his way over to the washbasin. He splashed cold water on his face, then paced restlessly as the blond mage gradually quietened, his paroxysm easing until he lay exhausted and limp in Invictus’ arms.

“Hawke,” Anders finally managed to whisper. “F-Fenris?”

The elf came and knelt on the edge of the bed to take the hand that Anders reached out. “We are both here, love,” answered the elf.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake everyone up,” the apostate said raggedly. 

“What were you dreaming about?” asked Invictus softly. Anders screwed his eyes tight shut and shook his head.

“Can’t say,” he breathed. “Please, I - I’d rather not talk about it right now.”

“Alright love,” soothed Invictus.

Fenris glanced at Zevran as the Antivan elf sat on the edge of his bed and reached for his boots. “Where are you going?” the white-haired elf asked.

“It is not far off dawn,” replied Zevran quietly. “I shall slip out and find food for us, and then I think we should move on and find somewhere safer to stay whilst I find horses or transport for us. The sooner we are out of this city the better.”

“Is anywhere in this city safe? Or should we try to move out of the city by nightfall?” Fenris asked.

“We leave as soon as we may,” answered Zevran. He glanced at Anders, who lay huddled in Invictus’ arms, still clutching Fenris’ hand as though terrified they would both vanish if he let go.

“Alright, we’ll be here when you return.” Fenris said softly.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tevinter awaits, old habits need to be brought from the darkness and every moment spent in the masquerade,shatters them just a bit more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: hard D/s  
> tw: faux slavery  
> tw: triggered by past abuse

Vic held Anders close and murmured in his ear, nothing sensible, just something to soothe the man in his arms. Anders slowly relaxed in Invictus’ arms until his head lolled on the pillow and his fingers slackened upon Fenris’ hand, drifting slowly into an exhausted sleep.

“Maker, I wonder what he dreamt of to make him scream like that.” Fenris wondered once he freed his hand. “He’s stronger than I realize.”

“He is stronger in more ways than you might think,” said Zevran quietly as he pulled on his leather tunic and buckled on his knife belt.

“You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days I swear to Maker.” Fenris said. “I thought you were gone already.”

Zevran gave him a quick grin. “Shall I whistle for you whilst I work, hmm, _carissimi_?” he asked. “Or perhaps I shall wear a bell around my neck so that you know where I am.” He bent over and bestowed a quick kiss upon Fenris’ cheek then turned to the broken window. “I shall be back as swiftly as I may,” he said as he swung himself up over the windowsill, and then he was gone.

“I’m going to take his heart when he startles me like that.” Fenris muttered as he took his seat once more and watched over where Invictus had lain back down with Anders.

The sun had risen and it was perhaps two hours later when Fenris heard the door to the other room slowly opening.

He stood and went behind the door that separated the two rooms, ready to snap the neck of whoever was sneaking in. 

He heard the door to the other room close quietly, then a slight scuff of a booted foot betrayed the footsteps of whoever had entered the room. The door between the two rooms started to open.

Fenris yanked the door open and pulled the person around and slammed him to the floor, his hand up and ready to strike before he realized who it was. “You are going to wind up with my hand in your chest again.” he huffed as he stood up so the other elf could get up.

Zevran stared up at him from the floor, slightly winded from being slammed hard against the floorboards. He regarded Fenris wordlessly for a moment then held out a hand to the other elf.

“Sorry, kind of on edge after earlier.” the taller elf said as he helped Zevran to his feet. “It doesn’t help that I haven’t slept yet.”

Zevran nodded. “I, too, am tired,” replied the Antivan. “Otherwise you would not have gotten the drop on me like that. I should be grateful it was you behind the door and not one of our enemies.”

“Be glad I realized who you were. I’m exhausted as well but I will rest once we’ve moved elsewhere.” Fenris sounded tired, which was rare. He fell back into his chair and let his head hit the wall behind him with a loud thump.

“You should sleep love, lay with Anders, I’ll take up your spot,” Vic said as he carefully pulled himself free of the other mage. 

Zevran moved over to his pack and began gathering up the damp clothing he’d spread around the room to dry earlier, folding it up and stowing it swiftly. “I know we are all tired but we should put as much distance between ourselves and this city as we can,” the elf said in a low voice. “Fenris, Hawke, can either of you ride?”

“A horse?” Fenris asked as he forced himself up and began to stuff the few things he’d pulled from his pack back in.

“Yes, a horse,” said Zevran in a patient tone as he began packing what few things Anders had left out of his own pack before reaching for the mage’s boots.

“Don’t be funny, I can’t really think straight right now.” Fenris said before he leaned over to wake Anders. 

“Get up, we’re leaving this damned place.” the elf whispered in the blond’s ear.

“Not a joke,” replied Zevran. “There are three horses outside; we are going to steal them. Hawke, can you ride?”

Anders sat up groggily, accepting his boots from Zevran without a word.

“Yes, I’ll keep Anders with me since he’d topple Fenris over.” Vic said as he got his pack and staff slung over his shoulder.

“No... I’ll be OK,” said Anders as he tugged his boots on. “We’re the two biggest members of the party; it would slow the horse down too much if it has to carry us both.”

He glanced up at Fenris. “Love, you should ride with Zevran; he’s the smallest and lightest of us but also a damned good horseman. You’ll be safe with him.” He got to his feet.

“No, you ride with Invictus. End of story because if you start to slide off while we’re at full speed I might not be able to catch you.” Fenris replied.

“We’ll see about that,” muttered Anders. “No-one is going to catch me because I’m not going to bloody fall off.”

“Anders, stop. You have barely slept, Void none of us have slept. You were poisoned and hurt. Zevran was hurt, Fenris is almost about to fall down on his face. You will ride with me, at least until we get out of this damned city. I’ll put you to sleep and tie you to the horse if I have to.” Vic said sternly.

Anders turned on Invictus and shoved him in the chest with the braced fingers of one hand. “No, _you_ stop, and you damned well listen to me for a minute. I will not fall off, and you are not going to put me to sleep. I will ride that damned horse alone, understand me?” He was trembling slightly as he reined in on his anger.

“Hawke... perhaps you should not push him on this point, eh?” suggested Zevran quietly. “If Anders does not wish to ride with any of us, he probably has a very good reason for it. He has slept the most out of any of us, in any case.”

“Fine.” Vic and Fenris said in annoyance as they packed up. Fenris shook his head to clear the cobwebs and waited for direction from the other elf.

Invictus just shrugged it off and waited for Zevran to point the way.

Zevran led the way downstairs, leading them out through the silent and deserted kitchen to the small alley that ran behind the inn. Three horses were tied up at the end of the alley.

Anders strode up to horses and looked them over, then selected the tall dark grey mare in the centre and tied his staff to the saddle before swinging up into the saddle with a practiced motion, gathering the reins in one hand as he glanced back to the others, shaking his loose hair back over his shoulder as he waited for the others to mount up. His eyes had a hard, alert look, his lips set in a thin line.

Fenris swung up behind Invictus upon the large chestnut gelding to the right of Anders' grey mare and wrapped his arms tight around the bulky mage.

Vic waited until Zevran was mounted on the third horse, a shorter black gelding with sleek elegant lines that suggested speed, before he turned to their Antivan friend. "Which way?"

“This way,” said Zevran as he kicked his horse forward, the black gelding snorting then breaking out into a swift trot. Anders spurred his horse on to follow as Zevran headed up the main road that led through the heart of the city.

Vic did the same, one hand tight on the reins as he let the other clasp around Fenris' waist.

Zevran spurred his black gelding on to a canter, Anders following suit on his grey mare as Invictus urged his chestnut gelding on faster. The two larger horses kept easy pace with the spirited black creature that had evidently been bred for speed. 

The streets were quiet this early, few people about in the grey light of dawn.

"We'll draw attention," called Anders with a frown. 

"It cannot be helped; stealth has not been our friend, we must trust to speed instead!" called back Zevran as he spurred his mount on faster.

Anders shook his head but set his heels to the grey mare's flanks, Invictus doing likewise as Fenris clung on with grim determination.

It was not until the city gates were an hour behind them on the road that Zevran directed his gelding off the road towards the trees nearby. He pulled up his horse and dismounted, leading the way under the eaves of the forest and away from the road.

Anders reined in his mare and dismounted, stumbling only a little as his boots hit the ground, clutching the saddle to steady himself before he led his horse after.

Invictus dismounted then glanced up at Fenris. "Stay there," he ordered the exhausted elf and led the chestnut after Anders and Zevran.

Zevran and Anders had led their mounts into a sheltered clearing, where they were unsaddling them. Anders grabbed a handful of dry grass and began to briskly rub down his grey mare; she snorted softly, then lowered her head to graze.

Fenris didn’t answer Vic, but he didn’t really try to hold on as the horse moved further into the clearing. “Vic…” he called softly but the mage didn’t hear him over the noise of camp being settled. 

“Vic” the elf said again before he started to slide sideways, and caught himself before he tumbled off the horse entirely. He leaned forward and groaned against the horses neck. “I hate horseback riding.” he muttered.

Anders glanced over as he finished rubbing down Zevran’s spirited gelding then swiftly was at Fenris’ side, reaching up to help the elf down. “Easy there,” he said gently. The hand at Fenris’ back glowed, and then healing magic spread through him in warm waves, soothing away the aches inside, down his thighs and up his spine.

"Gonna be sick." The elf murmured once he was off the horse.

“It’s OK, let’s just get you....” Anders’ voice trailed off as the elf doubled over, and he just had time to loop an arm around Fenris’ waist and catch the white hair back out of the elf’s face before he vomited. The blond apostate made quiet soothing noises as Fenris retched, holding him up as his stomach twisted until he was bringing up only sour-tasting bile.

“Let’s get you lying down,” the mage said gently as he helped Fenris over towards where Zevran was setting out their bedrolls. “You’ll feel better after some rest.”

"I hate everything." Fenris wheezed as he laid down and shut his eyes with a pained groan.

Invictus came over to him with a cup of water for the elven fighter. "Here, at least rinse your mouth before you sleep."

Fenris drank half, gargled and spit before he flopped back down on the bedroll.

Anders had returned to the horses to unsaddle the chestnut, tying it up alongside the other horses before rubbing it down with another handful of dried grass. When he’d finished, he wandered over to join the others, dropping down to sit on a nearby log. 

Zevran produced a satchel with various foodstuffs, and Anders accepted a hunk of bread and a piece of dried sausage. “You three should get some rest,” he observed. “I can keep watch for a while.”

"I slept some, and I want to keep an eye on Fenris. He keeps sicking up, and you've never been around him the few times he's been this sick. It's not...pleasant." Vic said as he reached for a piece of sausage.

Anders shrugged. “As you wish,” he said. “How bad does he generally get? I can probably do something to help.”

Zevran had devoured a brief, cold repast and threw himself down upon his bedroll, dragging his blanket over himself before burying his face in his pillow and slipping swiftly into a light sleep.

"Unless you want to revisit the feeling of his hand around your still-beating heart, I suggest leaving him alone to sleep it off." Invictus replied, nothing in his words made it seem like a joke.

Anders frowned. “You... think he’d actually try to harm me?” he asked slowly, not moving from his position as he glanced at Fenris.

"If he's half awake, and not sure who's touching him? It's possible. It wouldn't be on purpose, but trust me, it's not a feeling I want to experience again." Invictus shuddered slightly at the memory of the last time he'd woken his lover and nearly lost his life.

“I’ll be careful, but if he’s ill then I’m not going to just sit by and watch him suffer,” said Anders quietly. He was, first and foremost, a healer.

"No one said let him suffer, just be careful." Vic checked the tin kettle, put leaves in the cups left out and made tea for them both.

"I think once he's slept he'll be better. I hope." Vic finished softly.

“I’ll be careful,” nodded Anders as he shifted over to sit closer to the other mage, only a hand’s reach away from Fenris. “He’s likely just overtired.”

"I hope so, he's ...." Vic faltered and glanced at Anders. "I'm being stupid. It's just my fear creeping in. Since he nearly died after fighting that fear demon, anything that's wrong with him terrifies me," the champion admitted.

Anders nodded. “I understand,” he replied quietly. “Since Hal and Merrill died, it’s... it’s been on my mind a lot as well. How close we all come to dying so often. It scares me that there’s a very real chance one or more of us might not make it back from Seheron in one piece, and my skills and power might not be enough.” 

He stared down at his hands, then glanced at Fenris. He extended out a hand to hover over the elf’s hip, almost but not quite touching him, lightly extending the lightest feather-touch of his senses to reassure himself that only exhaustion plagued the elf at present.

“I think he just needs rest,” he shrugged.

"As do you, that was a hard ride out of the city and you barely slept. Don't forget you were hurt as well. I'll keep watch, sleep love." Vic said softly, his look to both former warden and his warrior gentle.

Anders shook his head. “I can’t sleep now,” he said softly. “Too restless. I’ll be OK; I’ve ridden farther and harder than that in a day back during the Blight.” he grinned briefly. “You may have noticed I’m no stranger to horses.”

"I did notice, hadn't realised you were good at it." Vic said as he sipped his warm tea and leaned back from the fire. “Lot’s of time riding in the Wardens then?”

“You could say that,” agreed Anders. He sipped his own tea and stared at the flames. “My...father... kept horses. I could ride almost as soon as I could walk. And... sometimes when the templars caught me, they... I had to ride when... I couldn’t walk.”

Vic noticed his evasiveness about the subject and didn’t pry further. “Never had horses, we never stayed in one spot long enough really. There was the farm in Lothering but horses cost more than we could scrounge up even when the harvest was good.” Invictus closed his eyes and let what sunlight that filtered in warm him.

“These are good horses. They should carry us far if we treat them well,” said Anders quietly. He glanced at Fenris, checking on him again quietly.

The white haired elf mumbled something in his sleep and turned towards his lovers. He frowned, and spoke again, clearer that time and Vic could make out Varania, no… from the elf’s muttering.

“He’s dreaming of his sister, that can’t be good.” Invictus moved closer, ready to wake the elf if need be.

Anders likewise moved closer, leaning over the elf to gently tug the blanket back over the elf. “Whatever he’s dreaming about, it doesn’t look restful,” he replied softly as he glanced back at Invictus, letting his hand rest a moment upon the elf’s hip.

“Anders...don’t use magic on him. If he’s dreaming of what happened that day, magic will make it very, very bad.” Invictus said as his eyes widened slightly.

Fenris had shifted at the touch, tensed under the thin blanket as he continued to ramble. 

“What?” said Anders, and looked down at his hand. “Maker, I didn’t think-” 

“You, you weren’t there when we fought Danarius. Just move slowly, and hope you don’t wake him. Not when that’s on his mind.” Vic looked nervously at his lover, how he looked as if he feared a strike from someone, how vulnerable he looked next to Anders.

Anders froze, his eyes now on the elf as he tried to withdraw his magic as lightly and gently as he could. 

Fenris’ eyes snapped open and he stared ahead and blinked slowly, unsure where he was. Just that someone was using magic on him, he was exhausted and didn’t recognize the feel of Anders power coursing through him. He moved faster than Vic could react and had Anders pinned on his stomach, the mages arm twisted behind his back and his brands lit up the clearing.

Anders bit back a cry as his arm was wrenched painfully back. “F-fenris... it’s me, it’s Anders!” he managed to gasp.

“Love...you’re with us, it’s just Anders, me and Zevran. You’re safe here.” Invictus said slowly.

Fenris stared at Vic for a drawn out moment, then released Anders with an apology. “Forgive me, I...I didn’t…” he trailed off and scooted back to the bedroll.

Anders’ body slumped as he groaned, letting his arm fall to the ground at his side. “Maker, that hurt,” he breathed as he rolled onto his side, reaching up with his other hand to clutch at his shoulder. “That was my own bloody fault.”

“I’m sorry.” Fenris repeated and curled away from them.

“Love, it’s ok. You, you called out for her while you slept. You must have been dreaming of that day.” Invictus said as he joined Fenris and held him close to him.

“It’s not ok, I could have snapped his arm like a twig!” he snarled and pulled away from the Champion. “Stop coddling me Vic, I’m going to find that stream we passed on the way here and refill our canteens. If I can’t sleep I should be useful.” the elf looked around for them but in his annoyance missed them entirely.

Zevran silently handed them to him, arching one eyebrow.

Anders sat up, rubbing his shoulder ruefully. “Vic did warn me to be careful,” he said. “It was my own fault.” He tried to rotate his shoulder then winced. “I’m probably lucky your instinct was to restrain me and not just go straight for my heart.”

Fenris took them from Zevran and left in a hurry so they couldn’t see how rattled he was. He couldn’t find the words to reply to Anders, so he dashed away in hopes he would calm down.

“One of these days someone will warn me to back off and I’ll actually listen,” Anders reflected. “Maybe it’ll be third time lucky.”

“At least this time you didn’t court death, just injury.” Invictus said tiredly. “Leave him be, unless he takes a while to return or it gets too dark. Then I’ll find him.”

Zevran brushed Anders’ hand out of the way and ran a finger over the freshly-healed scar from the knife wound he’d taken a few hours before. “You are fortunate this did not reopen,” he murmured. Anders pulled his arm away.

“I’ll be fine, he just wrenched it a bit. I’m the healer here, remember?” He glared briefly at the Antivan then pressed the heel of his palm against his shoulder and let healing magic flow.

“As you say,” shrugged Zevran, returning to his bedroll. He turned his back on the two men.

“What’s wrong with you?” Vic asked him, curious about his change in mood when Zevran touched him.

Anders glanced up at him with a small frown. “What do you mean?” he asked tersely.

“You snapped at Zevran and you seem irritated all of a sudden is all.” Vic said cautiously before he flopped back down on the bedroll.

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” said Anders shortly as he returned his attention to his shoulder. “I don’t need help fixing this, I can manage it fine by myself.” He muttered something under the breath that sounded like “not a cripple, don’t need to coddle me either,” as he looked away.

“Forgive me for being concerned about you then.” Vic said tiredly as he closed his eyes and counted to fifteen so he wouldn’t lose his temper with the other mage.

Anders opened his mouth as if to make a retort then snapped it shut again.

Vic laid there for a while until he heard Fenris return to camp. The elf found Anders sitting on a fallen tree stump a little distance away from the other two men, cleaning the blade of his staff with a dark look on his face, eyes flicking up to glance around the ring of trees frequently.

Fenris dropped the full canteens by their packs and went over to Anders and sat by him. “Do you mind if I sit with you? I can’t sleep.”

“Go ahead,” replied Anders. “I’m... not sure if I should be sorry I woke you or not. You looked like you were having a pretty unpleasant nightmare.”

“I was.” Fenris said carefully as he sat cross-legged by the former warden.

Anders dropped his gaze to the blade of his staff and ran the oiled cloth slowly over the sharp steel. He wasn’t going to probe further; if Fenris chose to talk about his dreams or his past that was one thing, but he knew he would have been deeply uncomfortable if any of the three men had pushed him to talk about his own nightmares earlier that night. If Fenris merely wanted companionable silence, that was fine with him.

“I didn’t realize you knew how to ride so well.” the elf finally said as he watched Anders care for the bladed end of his staff.

Anders shrugged. “I was raised around horses,” he said. “And usually ended up being dragged back to the tower either behind a horse or on top of one, depending on how angry the templars were. Of course, during the Blight we had a lot of ground to cover at times.”

“I see.” Fenris fell silent for a while longer then spoke again as if he felt the need to speak just to fill the silence. “I saw them in Tevinter, but I wasn’t really allowed to ride. I was scared of them for a while after I saw a man get kicked and trampled by a war horse.”

Anders winced. “Did he live?” he asked.

“No, it was rather messy to be honest.” Fenris said as he watched Anders work, his eyes drawn to the mage’s long, graceful fingers as he continued to buff the blade and oil it. Anders nodded.

“Yes, it would be,” he agreed. “Don’t worry, none of these three are warhorses; in fact I dare say Zevran’s black gelding would spook and run a mile at the scent of blood. My grey seems a fairly steady thing though. You could ride with me when we move on if you like.” He eyed the gleaming blade and gave it a last swipe with the cloth, then turned his attention to the grip on the haft. Some of the thread had come loose.

“Are you alright? I’m sorry I hurt you.” Fenris said quietly.

“I told you, it was my own fault. That’s twice now I’ve been warned to back off from you and didn’t pay attention. Maybe third time will be the charm?” He gave Fenris a brief grin. “It could have been worse, as I said. My shoulder’s sore, but you didn’t break it.”

The elf’s gaze dropped and he didn’t smile at Anders attempt at humor. “It’s not funny, I could have killed you or broken your arm when we are far from home, have little in the way of medical supplies and no idea when we’ll find a town again. That’s twice I’ve injured you like this. I’m so sorry.” Fenris’ voice hitched as he sat there with the former warden.

Anders waggled a finger under the elf’s nose. “Don’t you dare start crying on me,” he said, though without heat or rancour. “Not sure I could stand the puppy dog eyes for long. I made a mistake, I’ll be twice as careful next time.”

Fenris didn’t look up at him, he simply turned away and tried to keep himself together. He didn’t understand how Anders could be so damned blithe about nearly dying at his hand. 

Anders laid his staff down then hesitantly put his hand on Fenris’ shoulder. When the elf didn’t respond, he tugged a little harder, turning the elf towards him. “Fenris, this is... there’s more going on here than me making a stupid mistake I won’t make again. What’s wrong? You held back. Your instinctive response was to pin and restrain me, not try to take my head off. I’d say that’s a pretty positive sign.”

The elf just shook his head and covered his face with his hands, he didn’t think he could speak without breaking and that was the last thing they needed. Instead he tried to rein in the words on his tongue, and the tears he felt welling up so he wouldn’t let his emotions get the better of him, not out in the open where anyone could be laying in wait. If he was to fall apart, it would be later, behind closed doors.

Anders pulled the elf closer and wrapped his long arms around him, worried as the elf fought to control his emotions. The elf’s mood seemed incredibly volatile, and he had no idea what could lie at the heart of it. Maybe this was something that had been brewing a long time, before ever he’d come on the scene.

Whatever it was, it seemed he wasn’t going to get it out of Fenris today. He held him close and stroked the soft white hair gently. “You’re still exhausted,” he said quietly. “You should try and get some more sleep.”

“Can’t...nightmares.” Fenris muttered hoarsely.

“It’ll be worse if you don’t sleep though,” said Anders gently, his face sad. “I know that only too well. Would you like me to put you under for a while?”

“No...No magic.” Fenris said, his eyes wild as he struggled to get away from Anders suddenly.

Anders pulled away, holding his hands up where Fenris could see them clearly. “No magic,” he agreed quietly, watching the elf warily. “I promise.”

Fenris backed away and sat on the ground across from him, and slumped tiredly. “I’m sorry...I can’t. I just can’t.” he nearly whined. “I’m going to just lie down for a while.” the elf curled on his side, with his back to Invictus on the bedroll next to the Champions, his gaze on the fire as he let his thoughts run in circles.

Anders sighed softly and picked up his staff again, bending over the haft binding. His slender fingers worked deftly, his eyes flicking up to the trees frequently as before.

Zevran woke three hours later, coming fully awake between one breath and the next as he rolled from his bedroll in one smooth motion and heading off into the trees without glancing back at the others. He returned a few minutes later, lacing up his pants and tugging his tunic straight before he kicked dirt over their small fire.

“We should be moving,” he said briefly.

Anders got to his feet and went over to the horses to begin saddling them.

Fenris got up and nudged at Invictus to awaken. The elf had dozed lightly but not slept well for the second night in a row. He was quiet as they broke camp, nearly silent as he got behind Invictus and clasped his hands around the mage’s middle.

Anders swung himself up into the grey’s saddle, binding his staff to the saddle pommel as she danced to one side; he settled deeper into the saddle and brought her under control with pressure from his legs, checking her motion without a hand on the rein as he tightened the binding on his staff so it wouldn’t be easily dislodged.

Zevran vaulted easily into the saddle of his spirited black gelding. “Are we all ready, my friends?” he asked.

Fenris nodded against Vic’s back and held on tighter. “Yeah, let’s get going, hopefully you have a destination in mind?”

“I had originally planned to ride up the coast then cut across after Treviso to the north coast, but now I am thinking perhaps my enemies may be expecting us to go that way,” replied Zevran as he pulled his horse’s head around.

“Well I know nothing of the land here, where are we going then? What’s the best and fastest route to get to Seheron?” Vic asked, very aware of the way his elven lover tensed and tightened his hold on him.

Zevran shook his head. “We will not go the fastest route,” he said. “I think perhaps up as far as Antiva City, though we will not enter the city itself. We will ride upriver then cut north as far as the southern edge of the Arlathan Forest, then skirt the White Spire before making our way west along the coast until we can find a boat to take us over to Seheron.”

Anders had gone white as Zevran spoke. “I’m not going anywhere near the White Spire,” he said. “Are you mad? We already know there’s a chance both the Black and White Chantries may be after me - what makes you think I’ll willingly go anywhere near any tower, let alone the White Spire?”

Fenris cleared his throat from behind Hawke and spoke words he’d never thought he’d utter again. “If we cross Tevinter and go north, it will be the fastest route.”

Zevran glanced from Fenris to Anders, then back again. “I cannot ask you to go back into Tevinter, _carissimi_ ,” he said, shaking his head.

“But you’d expect me to risk being picked up by templars?” exclaimed Anders as he spurred his horse forward.

“I will not risk Anders life like that Zevran.” Fenris said gravely before he looked to the road. “It’s the most direct way, and I tire of this adventure already, might as well cut it short as possible. Let’s just go.” 

Invictus turned to face Fenris as well as he could but found the elf wouldn’t look up at him for anything. He turned to Zevran and shook his head. “There has to be a way that doesn’t endanger either of them further.”

Anders turned to Fenris. “There has to be another way,” he said desperately. “Rivain. We- we can make for Rivain, maybe find friends of Isabela’s there-”

Zevran should his head. “If there were allies of Isabela’s to call upon in Rivain we would not be here now, my friends,” he replied. “It is either the White Spire or Tevinter.”

Anders made a faint strangled sound. “The White Spire then,” he said quietly. “I can’t put Fenris through that. Not for my sake.”

“Tevinter, we cross it and be done with it. That’s my decision and you will not change it.” Fenris finally snapped at them before he nudged Invictus to move their horse.

“Love--” Vic started to say but shut his mouth at the way he was gripped and the soft words Fenris said, just loud enough for him. “As you wish then, let us go.” 

“Very well,” nodded Zevran, swinging his horse round and urging it into a trot through the trees back towards the road. Anders sat his horse and waited until Invictus’ chestnut had swung into stride behind Zevran’s mount before he brought up the rear, a stricken look of guilt upon his face as he stared at Fenris’ back.

Fenris fell silent and closed his eyes as they rode on for a while, his grip on Invictus never faltered, his posture tense as he possible as he rode behind his lover. He didn’t speak until they finally stopped near where the Imperial Highway touched Antiva’s lands.

Zevran booked lodging for them at an inn less than a day’s travel from the border with Tevinter. There were two rooms, one for himself and Fenris and one for the two mages. When they got up to the rooms, Zevran pushed Fenris firmly in the direction of their room.

“We have to hide this distinctive hair, yes?” he said as he closed the door firmly in Invictus’ face and pushed Fenris in the direction of the tub.

“What in the Void are you doing?” Fenris said as he dug in his heels and turned on Zevran. 

Zevran held up a packet of dye. “They will be looking for a white-haired elf, not a black-haired one. I shall be dying my hair also. I have cosmetics to hide your brands, though they will not conceal your nature should you light up like a Saturnalia tree of course - but we shall do what we can with mundane means to lessen the drain upon Anders.”

Fenris glanced at the packet then back at Zevran with a put upon sigh. ‘If my hair will even take dye. It’s white because of the damned lyrium in me.” the elven fighter stripped out of his clothes angrily and went to the tub. “Don’t get any ideas, I just don’t want my clothes ruined by that concoction.”

“I said nothing, _carissimi_.” Zevran set to work dying Fenris’ hair, working the dye into his white locks. “We may need to... convince Anders of the role he must play,” he said quietly. “You know as well as I do what happens to spirit healers in Tevinter.”

Fenris clenched the sides of the tub and tried not to snap at the other elf. “He’s going to hate it.” he hissed. “As am I.”

“You think I will enjoy it any, _carissimi_?” asked Zevran. “You know as well as I that it is a role we must play if we are to have any chance of getting across Tevinter.”

From next door they heard a sudden crash of something being thrown against the wall. “No, I won’t wear it! You can’t expect me to... to... Hawke, I _can’t_!”

“Ah,” said Zevran with a small sigh. “He has found the collar I am guessing.”

“The what?!” Fenris exclaimed.

Zevran sighed. “I set out some... appropriate garb befitting the spirit mage belonging to a magister. We both know he would not survive long as a free mage in Tevinter. As Hawke’s... pet... we run the least risk of any other magister deciding to acquire him themselves. It’s for his own protection.”

Fenris stared at him as if he was mad. He knew the truth of it but he didn’t like it. “Do...we have to wear them too?” he said very quietly, his eyes had gone dark as he stared at the other elf.

Zevran returned his gaze steadily, nodding slowly. “You know we must,” he said softly. “I have modified them so that we may remove them ourselves at a moment’s notice however.” He spread his hands apologetically. “I am sorry, _carissimi_.” He lowered his eyes.

Fenris felt like he couldn’t breathe at Zevran’s words, his eyes closed and he held himself very still until he could speak without screaming. “Doesn’t matter, doesn't matter. I swore I’d never wear a collar again. I can’t Zev, please.” he begged.

“Fenris,” said Zevran softly. “Anders will be sitting in the other room, begging Hawke the exact same thing. A collar around that pretty throat of his will be the only thing protecting him. If he sees that you can bear it, it will likely be the only way he can tolerate it. If you cannot do this for your own sake... can you do it for his?” 

“No...how can you ask that of me? You don’t know what I suffered in Minrathous. Please Zev, please?” Fenris begged again.

“If you can think of a way to walk into Tevinter as a free elf, then do so,” said Zevran stiffly. “I shall leave it to you to collar Anders however. Turn around, I need to rinse your hair.” His face had gone stiff and blank, his eyes almost empty.

The Tevinter elf remained as he was, stricken to see Zevran change before his eyes like that. “I am begging Zevran, please. You call me carissimi, so very easily. If I am beloved to you, please understand why this is hard for me. If I must wear it, I must but you will have to do it, I can’t willingly put one of those on again.” Fenris’ eyes filled and he hung his head so the Antivan elf wouldn’t see him finally lose his composure.

Zevran closed his eyes and bit the inside of his lip until he could taste blood. “If you wish,” he said softly, his tone still flat. “Please turn around.”

“Don’t sound like that, please. You don’t, there’s nothing to your voice.” Fenris said before he turned around and bowed his head so the dye could be rinsed.

Zevran swallowed the blood, feeling nausea roll through him as he rinsed Fenris’ hair, his fingers gentle as he worked the dye out of the jet-black locks. “I am sorry,” he said, his voice taut.

He stepped back as the water ran clear. “You are done. I must dye my own hair now.”

**   
In the other room, Anders sat on the bed, clad in what had to be the skimpiest set of robes he’d ever worn. The tightlaced corset that constricted his breathing was even tighter than the Dalish leather vest Fenris had liked him in so much, and trammelled him in from hips to just under his nipples, and no amount of tugging would get it to cover them. The diaphanous skirts beneath were slit up the sides to allow him to move freely. The black feathered pauldrons were nice, he admitted that. 

He stared at the collar in Invictus’ hands. It was made of fine black leather with gold edge stitching, lined with soft silk, but it was very definitely a slave’s collar; the large gold ring at the front made that very plain.

He swallowed hard. “I can’t,” he said again quietly. “The last time I was made to wear a collar was by the templars. I wore one that whole year in solitary. You have no idea what it will do to me to wear one again. I... can’t.”

“And how do you think Fenris feels about the idea?” replied Invictus. Anders closed his eyes, a pained expression on his face.

“I know. I know, believe me. But... I just don’t think I can do this, Hawke.”

“Do you want someone to try and take you from us? Do you really want me to have to fight for you in the fucking street like a...a...Magister?” Vic snarled. “If he has to do this, then you do it. I’m not going to hold you down and collar you for fucks sake.”

Anders lowered his head. “No...” he said slowly. “No, no fighting, I just....” He bit his lip. How could he make Hawke understand? He could no more put that collar around his own neck than he could have put his hand willingly into a fire.

“Anders...I don’t want to do this, Maker knows I really don’t but how else are we supposed to walk through Tevinter and not draw the attention of their templars, anyone who might have designs on Fenris or you? Please? the second we pass the border you can take it off and burn it.” Vic pleaded with him.

He lifted his head and stared at Invictus, his amber eyes dark with misery. “I can’t... I can’t do it. Not... Please.” 

Vic snarled and threw his hands up in the air. “You get yourself killed or bought off me, or force me into a damned duel I’m going to be fucking angry. You either put it on or make Zevran do it, I won’t collar you, or him or any of you. Why the fuck do I get to play magister?” He snapped as he threw the collar on the bed.

The door between the rooms opened and Fenris walked in, his black hair damp. Anders stared up at him and then drew his breath in sharply as he took in the elf’s appearance. Somehow Zevran had managed to apply some kind of paint that made the elf’s lyrium tattoos look like the vallaslin of the Dalish; but what had drawn Anders’ attention was the collar around the elf’s throat.

“How do I look?” Fenris asked hoarsely, his eyes were red and he looked like he wanted to punch someone.

Anders swallowed hard. “I wouldn’t recognise you, love,” he said. 

“I don’t recognize me either.” he said dully before he looked up at Anders. “You’re not wearing ...it.” he said softly.

Anders’ hand drifted to his throat as he swallowed. “I... I can’t... not myself. He....” He darted a glance at Invictus, then dropped his gaze to the floor. “Can’t,” he whispered. 

“Shall I?” Fenris asked with a glance at the collar then back at Anders. “Or Zevran, he had to hold me down.”

Anders closed his eyes and sat still. “I won’t fight,” he said quietly. “Whoever does it. Just... get it over with.”

Fenris snatched up the collar and buckled it swiftly around Anders neck then dropped to the bed with a choked sob. “I’m sorry, I fucking hate myself for it, I’m sorry.” he moaned as he stared at the floor, his hands going to the collar around his neck and dropping to his lap as if he couldn’t help but touch the thing.

Vic came over to him and tried to comfort his lover but was pushed away. 

“Not like this, never like this Vic. Not while I’m...like this.” Fenris rasped.

Anders’ hands had flown to the collar the moment Fenris’ hands left his neck and he drew in a ragged breath. He slipped a finger between the lined leather and his skin; it was so tight he could barely get his fingertip between.

He got to his feet, suddenly feeling light-headed. He knew he was hyperventilating, unable to get a deep enough breath to breathe. His fingertips were tingling.

“I can’t breathe,” he whispered, feeling dizzy.

“Yes you can, just close your eyes and take a breath at a time. You can also remove the collar yourself, Zev did something to them.” Fenris said woodenly as he sat there, his mind on the last time he wore such a thing and it was hard to focus on the present.

Invictus looked at Zevran in a panic. “This isn’t going to work. They are both falling apart, Anders can’t breathe because of the collar and stupid corseted robes. Fenris might as well be asleep on his feet. I don’t even know what to call him so people won’t know who he is!” the other mage swore as he pointed to both his lovers.

Zevran stood in the doorway, his face schooled into a blank mask. “You will call us whatever you wish, Master, because we will be your property. ‘Pet’ if it’s easiest to remember.” The Antivan had dyed his hair the same jet-black shade and used more of the cosmetics to disguise his own tattoos; he looked almost as though he might be Fenris’ brother. There was a collar around his own throat that matched Fenris’.

The Antivan moved across to the swooning apostate. “The laces are too tight,” he said quietly as he pulled Anders over to the nearest bed and sat him down, loosening the stays.

“Can’t breathe,” said Anders, his eyes half-lidded. He swayed, and suddenly slumped over in a dead faint.

The blank expression on Zevran’s face did not change as he laid the unconscious mage on the bed then loosened the collar slightly. Then he turned to Invictus and stared at the floor in perfect mimicry of an obedient slave. “Master, we are not the only guests on this floor. A magistra with two slaves has just been shown to the suite next door. What are our orders, master?”

Invictus looked at him and felt sick as he fumbled for orders to give Zevran. “Go...go downstairs and get dinner for us, and see if they have anything for nausea.” he finally stammered in Tevinter.

“As you command, Master.” Zevran bowed deeply then backed gracefully out of the room.

Invictus sat down hard in the chair by the bed and just stared at the door until Zevran returned. Fenris had gone silent as he sat there, expression vacant and his body still.

Zevran served Invictus first in perfect silence then moved over to Anders to rouse him. The blond apostate was too dazed to do more than allow himself to be guided over to the table to sit down.

“May we retire, master?” asked Zevran quietly, holding the tray with his and Fenris’ food.

“Yes...yes.” Invictus said as he sat at the table and tried to make himself eat.

Zevran retreated towards the other room, jerking his head to indicate the other elf should follow him. Once in their room, he closed the door behind him then moved to listen at the other door silently for a moment before setting the tray down then crossing to Fenris and swiftly removing the collar.

“I am so sorry, _carissimi_ ,” he breathed very, very softly, his voice full of the distress and sorrow he had not dared show until now. “We are all in grave danger with this magistra present. We must all play our roles perfectly until we have left her and this inn far behind. Beloved, we must put on the performance of our lives. Please, be strong.”

Fenris looked at him and simply nodded in agreement before he responded in slow, careful Tevene. “We should eat and rest as ordered, brother.”

Zevran pulled Fenris close to him and pressed his forehead to Fenris’ silently for a moment before he pulled away. “Indeed,” he said in Tevene and turned to the food.

In the other room, Anders picked at his food, his eyes a little too wide as his gaze darted around. “Do you know any silence spells?” he whispered as quietly as he could.

“Yes, why?” Vic asked as he picked at his food. He glanced up and motioned at the collar. “You can take it off you know.” he whispered.

Anders gave him a sickly grin. “If I take it off I don’t think I will be able to handle having it put back on again,” he whispered. “Please... cast a silence around this room. I need to know no-one’s listening in.”

“As you wish.” Vic cast Silence, twice for good measure before he went back to picking at his plate. “If you’re going to shout, at least make it convincing. The last thing I want is anyone thinking I’m a bad lay.” Invictus said in a bad attempt at levity.

Anders’ answering laugh was tinged with hysteria. He shook his head. “No-one will hear now, only us.” He clenched his fists. “This is worse than I thought it was going to be, and yet... We don’t have any choice. You’re right. If I ride into Tevinter as a free mage, it will only be a matter of time before someone challenges you or just decides to take me.” He dropped his gaze to his plate. “The collar will have to stay on until we leave Tevinter,” he said quietly. “I can’t go through this over and over again. If I just keep it on, eventually I’ll - I’ll learn to tolerate it.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t want this. If I’d known...I would have said no. Fenris, you...you both look so damned hurt. This is worse than I imagined.” Invictus said before he shoved his plate away.

Anders leaned forward on the table, resting his elbows either side of his barely-touched plate. “Invictus, I will cope. So will Fenris, eventually. He survived a lifetime of slavery and escaped, and he is here of his own free will to be with us. He’s far stronger than you could possibly imagine. He’s... we’re both in a sort of shock right now, but as we fall into our roles, you’ll see. He’ll cope, and we’ll need him in Tevinter. He knows it far better than we ever could, far better even than Zevran. He’ll cope, and - and maybe it’ll even be therapeutic for us.” He shrugged and gave a shaky laugh. 

“It’ll take us a couple of weeks to ride across Tevinter and then we’ll cross to Seheron and then these damned collars can come off and it’ll just be Hawke, Anders, Fenris and Zev again. But we need you to stay strong too, Hawke.” He stared at the Champion. “You have to play the magister and keep us slaves in check. You have to be the most arrogant son of a bitch walking down the street so no-one even thinks twice about challenging for your pet leashed spirit mage or your fine pair of matched elf slaves. You have to be our protector and our master.”

Hawke nodded though he felt miserable inside. “When we get home, I’m barring myself inside the room and not leaving bed for a month.” he said tiredly. “Maker give me strength...or should that be Dumat, this close to Tevinter?” he said before he went back to his plate.

“Dumat,” agreed Anders quietly as he stared at the plate.

Vic considered Anders for a moment before he cleared his throat and offered to help him. “Would it help if I...wore you out?”

The blond apostate glanced up, startled. “I guess.... the magistra would probably expect you to anyway,” he pointed out. He glanced down at his plate then pushed it away. “How would my domne have me?” he asked quietly.

Invictus blanched at that, then rose and beckoned Anders to follow him. He whispered in his ear. “Say templar if its too much.” 

Anders nodded. “You should probably drop the Silence when we start,” he said quietly. “May as well give her a show.” He stared at the bed. 

“Forgive me.” Vic said to himself, Fenris and Anders as he waved his hand and dropped the spell. He pulled a handful of Anders hair and tugged the tall blond to his knees. “Serve me, pet.”

Anders let a whimper escape his lips as he dropped to his knees and reached for Invictus’ belt. The other mage’s grip on his hair was uncomfortable but not actually painful as he freed Invictus’ cock and bent forward to minister to it with hands, lips and tongue.

“That’s the best you can do? I trained you better than that.” Invictus snarled as he pulled harder, and guided the blond’s movements.

Anders made a faint sound of protest in the back of his throat then closed his eyes as he worked the other mage’s flesh with his lips and tongue, one hand fondling Invictus’ balls as his head dipped, drawing Invictus’ whole length in and relaxing his jaw until the other mage was thrusting down his throat. He swallowed, his mouth and throat constricting deliciously around Invictus’ cock as he fucked Anders’ throat.

“Good boy.” Vic moaned despite himself. He pulled Anders away and dragged him to the bed, then released his hair with a sneer. “Do you think you deserve to have me in you? Speak pet.” 

Anders climbed onto the bed and got on his hands and knees, calling up a handful of slick as he flipped the flimsy skirt out of the way and began to work two fingers into himself roughly. “Please, Master, this worthless one craves your touch. Please, domne, take this wretched one and fill him. Master, I crave your touch, I - this lowly one begs you to take him Master and use him as you will.” He rocked back onto his own hand and whimpered as he forced a third finger in.

Vic’s eyes darkened as he watched Anders work himself open. “You don’t deserve me at all, but I have needs and you’re good enough a hole as any. Present yourself and don’t touch me, that’s more than you get.” 

Anders withdrew his hand and folded his arms on the bed, dropping his forehead to rest against the down comforter as he spread his legs and canted his hips back. He was dropping into that safe space where nothing could touch him, where it was all just a game and something happening to his body but almost beyond where he could care or feel.

Invictus slicked himself up and slid into Anders with no warning, not much more prep than the mage had given himself. “Mine, all mine.” Vic snarled in his ear as he slammed into him hard as he could. If he was going to be damned for his deeds, might as well earn it.

Anders heard himself scream, a ragged cry torn from his throat as he was filled suddenly, a harsh burn inside. But he rocked back into the thrusts as his own cock twitched and hardened, neglected between his thighs; and his pants were needy and almost plaintive as the other mage took him hard.

Invictus was growling in his ear as he took him, hard, fast and brutally. “Good boy,let them know how much you like this. Getting what I give you and only what I give you. I might even let you come, in your hands, soil the bed you sleep on the floor.”

He could feel himself slipping away into a haze of endorphins, everything taking on a dreamlike air of unreality. “Yes Master,” he heard himself pant between small cries. 

Vic wanted to scream at him to stop saying that, not to go that far but with the silencing spell dropped, he didn’t dare break their cover. “Good boy, very good boy.” he gasped instead.

Anders’ eyes were half-lidded, his head turned to one side, lips parted as he moaned with each thrust. Invictus could see he was drifting into a trance, not even aware of what he was saying.

Invictus started to come, he wasn’t able to warn Anders at all, but how he stuttered and stopped moving was the other mage’s hint along with how he filled him. “Good boy, such a good boy.” Vic said as he pulled away slowly. 

“Kneel on the floor, use your fingers, whatever you need to come. Don’t spill it, and lick your fingers clean.” Invictus moaned as he watched Anders panting and quivering.

Anders somehow managed to climb down onto the floor and knelt as instructed, beginning to pump his cock with his hand, fisting his flesh roughly with hard, swift strokes as he came closer and closer. He panted, eyes closed as he felt himself coming closer and closer, and then he hunched over with a low groan and a shudder as he came into his own hands, body quivering. After a moment he straightened, lifting his hands to his mouth and licking his spend, swallowing it down and lapping at his fingers until his hands were clean.

He knelt there, panting, eyes closed.

Vic reached over, patted him on the head and sighed. “Good boy, clean me and you may sleep in bed. You earned it.”

As Anders turned his head towards Invictus, the dark mage realised the blond mage was still in a trance state, his eyes glazed and unfocused. “Master?” he breathed faintly.

“I said clean us up and you may sleep, pet.” Vic said slowly.

The door to the other room opened slowly and Zevran inched into the room. “Master, let this one tend you and your pet,” he said quietly.

Vic nodded tiredly and waved Zevran in to help Anders. “Take him with you, I can tend to myself. Give...Leto my …” he faltered, since a magister would never apologize to a slave. “Tell him he has not displeased me, but this one begged too well for me.”

Zevran nodded as he moved to Anders’ side and pulled the mage to his feet. “Master,” Zevran bowed before leading Anders into the other room, the blond apostate stumbling as though in a dream.

Fenris scowled at them both then turned his back to the room and covered his head with a pillow so he could ignore them both.

Zevran guided Anders to the empty bed and got him to sit down before he started unlacing the corset. Anders stared blankly into space as Zevran undressed him. When Zevran reached for the collar his hand rose to grip the elf’s wrist, only releasing it when Zevran let go of the collar.

Fenris curled as tight as he could under the thin blankets and ignored the soft sounds from the other side of the room as best he could. If Anders got into the bed, he planned to get out.

Zevran managed to coax Anders to lie down on the bed so the elf could finish undressing him, then he fetched water and cloths to clean the apostate up. He drew in a sharp breath when he saw the state of Anders’ entrance, but said nothing as he set to work gently washing away slick, semen and a trace of blood.

Fenris slipped from the bed and curled up in a nearby chair, his expression angry and hurt as he stared into the fire. He knew why Vic had done it, but that didn’t help the way his heart hurt.

Zevran talked quietly to Anders in Tevene as he worked, telling him how well he’d done, what a good servant, how pleased the Master was with him. Anders’ expression grew drowsy but content as Zevran drew a blanket over him. He drank the healing potion Zevran gave him without word or query, then closed his eyes.

“Sleep,” Zevran told him gently, and Anders was soon fast asleep.

Zevran made his way over to the fire and dropped into a crouch in front of Fenris. “We cannot do this,” he said softly, voice pitched for Fenris’ ears alone. “We will go another way. We will make due north through the foothills of the Hundred Pillars and avoid the roads and cities, and ride like the wind. I fear for both you and Anders if we have to go through the heart of Tevinter - and for the man Hawke will become.”

“We will do what we must, leave me alone.” Fenris replied just as softly before he glanced over Zevran’s shoulder. “I will take the other bed, your choice as to who you lay with.”

“Anders will not survive this unscathed,” said Zevran softly. “You are stronger than he is. You know how to act to survive in Tevinter. He... he will be broken by this, Fenris.” He shook his head. “No. We will ride north through the foothills. I am resolved on this.”

Fenris’ brows drew down and he got into Zevran’s face. “It’s too late now, we’re in for the duration...brother. I’m going to play the good little slave, as are you and him. We will ride fast and get out of this forsaken place as quickly as possible without drawing attention. You agreed to my idea to go through Tevinter, you get to see Tevinter,” the elf said so quietly and coldly that if he wasn't in kissing distance, the Antivan wouldn’t have heard him. “Now go to bed, I wish to be alone.”

“Very well,” murmured Zevran. “When Anders breaks, you get to keep both pieces.” He turned away.

“I’m sure Master will be happy to sweep up what’s left of both of us,” Fenris said bitterly and turned back to the fire.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zevran gets the shock of his life, Anders has enough of Invictus' back slide to wallowing, and Fenris is more of a linchpin than he realizes. In other words, Hawke could never be a magister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: faux slavery  
> tw: grief  
> tw: mentions of past abuse  
> tw: collaring (not a kink)

There was a knock on the door early the next morning. Zevran slipped from his bed and made his way to the door, opening it just a crack. An elf wearing a slave collar stood just outside the door; he recognised him as one of the two who had accompanied the magistra to the inn the previous evening.

“My mistress requests the company of your master for breakfast downstairs if it would please him. She has a .... proposition for him,” said the elf quietly.

“I will convey your mistress’ request to my master,” said Zevran coolly.

“She requests also that he bring his mage... servant,” added the elf. “And what other attendants your master requires or feels comfortable with.”

Zevran inclined his head politely then shut the door.

Anders was sitting up with an uneasy expression on his face as Zevran returned.

“Zevran, there are Grey Wardens nearby,” he whispered softly. “At least two. I can feel them.”

“And the magistra has requested our presence at breakfast,” said Zevran. “This day just gets better and better.” He paused as he stared down at Anders. “How do you feel this morning?”

“Sore,” said Anders. “Last night feels... fuzzy, like I dreamed it.”

“That is perhaps as well,” replied Zevran. “Wake Fenris but be careful, He was in a ... brittle mood last night.” He turned away to quietly enter the room where Invictus had slept alone.

The slender elf approached the bed where Invictus lay sprawled asleep, snoring softly. He paused beside the bed. “Master, I beg your pardon for waking you but the magistra has requested your presence at breakfast.”

Invictus opened his eyes and sat up, groggy and half awake. “Very well, let me get freshened up, get the others up and ready.” Vic said tiredly as he shooed Zevran away. He didn’t want to play the magister more than he had to, and after the previous night, he was already hating himself more than he had in Kirkwall. 

Zevran lingered only long enough to lean over and whisper in the groggy mage’s ear. “Anders says there are two Grey Wardens nearby.” He pulled away. “We shall be awaiting your pleasure master,” he said aloud as he retreated to the door.

“As you should.” Invictus said with a nod to let Zevran know he’d heard him. He dressed quickly and made himself seem more the Champion than the weather worn traveler he’d felt before they’d settled in. He knocked on the door and called to his slaves to ensure they were ready.

There was a muffled whimper from the other room, and the sound of a heavy piece of furniture shifting on the floor, and then a moment later the door opened and the two elves and the blond apostate entered. Anders looked pale and out of breath; he had one hand pressed flat against his abdomen as he gasped shallow breaths. Evidently he had just been laced into the corset a moment before.

“We are ready, Master,” said Anders breathlessly, his eyes on the floor.

Fenris glared balefully at Invictus for a split second before he dropped his eyes to the floor and assumed his old slave stance. 

“Excellent, be on your best behavior and alert since we are not yet home. I’m wary of this magistra and her desire to have us join her.” He said before he turned and headed out of the room, without a glance to see if they followed.

Anders dropped in behind Invictus, as befitted a favoured pet slave, leaving the two elves to bring up the rear.

The magistra had her back to them as they entered the common room of the inn. Anders gave a strangled gasp just behind Invictus. “Grey Wardens,” he breathed just for Invictus’ ears alone. “Very near. If I can sense them you may be certain they know I’m here.”

The magistra turned.

Three things happened at once. Invictus had the distinct impression he was looking at an older version of Bethany; the similarity was so strong he found himself taking a step forward without realising he’d moved.

Anders dropped to the floor in a dead faint.

And Zevran stopped dead still, eyes wide as though he’d seen a ghost, face grey. Fenris realised the other elf had ceased to breathe as he stood there, unable to tear his eyes away from the magistra.

Fenris turned to Zevran and shook him, but got no response. “Are you alright?” he asked in Tevene but still got nothing.

He then turned to where Anders had hit the ground in a graceless sprawl and tried to wake him up by tapping his face. “Not the time for a nap, so not the time for this.” he muttered under his breath.

Invictus went to her with Bethany on his lips as he reached out towards the woman without thinking. The woman stared past him, her eyes widening.

“Oh my Zevran,” she breathed softly.

The Antivan elf shook his head. “No. You’re dead. I know you are dead. This cannot be,” he whispered as he stared at her, face grey as death.

“Oh Zevran,” she said and hurried passed Invictus, reaching her hands out to Zevran. As her hands cradled his face, he gave a tremulous sigh and his knees gave way.

Vic turned to Fenris in shock, unsure what to do about all this. A woman who Zevran thought was dead, Anders fainted dead away at his feet and Zevran on his way down.

“Might we get your prized possession off the floor?” Fenris said as quietly as he could with a glance to his _Master_.

“What? Oh, oh yes.” Invictus picked Anders up and coughed behind the woman who had her arms full of Antivan elf. “Madame, perhaps we can retire to your rooms for this little reunion?”

“Anders?” said a male voice behind them. “Maker, what _are_ you wearing?” A tall human male with lank black hair emerged from the kitchens and strode over to stare at the unconscious apostate in Invictus’ arms.

“Nathaniel, it’s Zevran. Help me get him upstairs to our rooms.” The woman glanced to Invictus. “I will explain as much as I am able once we are all settled.”

Nathaniel moved to assist her.

Invictus carried Anders with him to her room and set him down in a chair, then unlaced the corset enough for him to breathe properly. Once everyone had entered and the door was locked, he cast an even stronger Silencing spell over the room so they could speak freely. “Who in the Void are you? Why do you know them and why does he look like he saw a ghost?” 

The woman turned and stared at Invictus imperiously, then relented. “I am Solona Amell, and this is Nathaniel Howe. We are Grey Wardens - as is Anders.”

“Amell...the Hero? Fuck me I would find my cousin in the backwater of Antiva’s outskirts.” Vic exclaimed.

Fenris had pulled off his collar and gone over to Anders to rouse him. “You’re related to the Hero? The Hero of Ferelden?” the elf muttered as he tried to get the blond warden to come around.

With the corset stays loosened, Anders began to revive, the colour slowly returning to his face. “Hawke, Wardens,” he mumbled, eyelids fluttering. He opened his eyes to see Nathaniel regarding him sombrely. 

“Hello Nathaniel, you’re a sight for sore eyes and no mistake,” Anders smiled weakly.

“I swear you’re wearing less every time I see you, Anders,” replied the other Warden, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a small grin.

“What are you doing here? Why did Zevran think you’re dead? What in the Void is going on around here?” Vic said in exasperation.

"Nathaniel, there's a bottle of Antivan brandy in my pack; fetch it please," requested Solona as she unbuckled Zevran's collar, brushing raven-black hair out of his face. Her expression was tender and concerned. “This is not the reunion I had dreamed of,” she said softly. “I pray you can forgive me my deception, _mi amatus_.” There was no response from Zevran; the Antivan elf looked dead, sprawled in the chair, face grey and drawn and looking far older than Invictus would have thought possible. Invictus found himself wondering suddenly just how old exactly the former Crow was.

Solona turned to Invictus. “We’re here on Warden business, but also at the request of a... certain friend of mine who cannot be named. We’re on our way to Minrathous to investigate certain dealings of the Black Spire. My movements have been... much followed since the Blight ended, and for various reasons it became necessary for it to be thought that I was... dead. The deception needed to be absolute, and I knew that Zevran would be closely watched as well. It was... vital to the success of our mission that he thought, and behaved, as though I were dead.” She turned and glanced down at him and shook her head. “I could not have dreamed how badly it would have affected him. This is not how I would have chosen to reveal the truth to him.”

She sighed, then nodded thanks as Nathaniel handed her a small glass with a measure of brandy before handing measures to Invictus, Anders and Fenris. Then he crouched down to moisten Zevran’s lips with a few drops of the dark amber liquid.

Solona sipped the brandy before going on. “I asked to speak with you over breakfast because I felt we would draw less attention crossing into Tevinter in the company of another magister - and our curiosity was piqued over your pet mage. We knew he was a Grey Warden, and Nathaniel recognised him the moment he laid eyes upon him. We were determining what the best way would be to rescue him from this unknown magister without ruining our cover.” She turned and smiled at Anders. “We would not have left you to languish in slavery, my friend.”

“Why not?” he asked bitterly. “You had no problem with leaving me to the tender mercies of templars. Templars, Solona! In the Order!” He sat up and stared at her, his eyes hurt and angry. “Why did you abandon me like that? You must have known what would happen!”

Solona regarded him gravely. “Sigrun and Oghren had tried to warn us before we left. I wish I’d listened, Anders, truly I do. She wrote to Nathaniel and I to inform us of the remains they’d found.”

Anders turned almost as grey as Zevran, and he would have dropped the brandy glass had Fenris not swiftly rescued it. “I had no choice,” he said desperately. “You have no idea what I’ve been through, Solona.”

“Is it true? About Justice?” she asked softly.

The blond apostate slumped in his chair and turned his face away. “Justice is gone.”

Fenris put his arm around the blond apostate so he didn’t jump up and overexert himself. The corset wasn’t fully undone, just loosened. 

Invictus sipped at the brandy then looked at Solona for a moment before he had to look away. “Fine, that explains that. This throws a whole wrench into what we came for, however.” Vic found a seat and slumped into it.

“What _are_ you here for?” asked Solona. “If we can aid you, we will.” She glanced at Anders, then at Zevran, her glance lingering on the catatonic elf. “I owe it to them, at the very least,” she added softly.

Vic averted his gaze as he spoke, it was too hard to look at her. Not when she looked as Bethany might have, had she not died. “He called in a favor I owed him, we need to rescue a friend from Seheron.” 

Solona and Nathaniel exchanged glances, then Solona eyed her brandy. “Would this be a certain pirate?” she said quietly.

Anders turned his head to stare at her. “How in the Void would you know about Isabela?” he said, his voice flat.

“The... friend I mentioned? She’s on Seheron. Her last report mentioned a mutual acquaintance.”

“Of course,” said Anders. “I guess she left more of an impression on you than I thought?”

“It was a very special night,” replied Solona with a blush before she turned away.

“So where does that leave us right now? Zevran isn’t dealing with your return from the dead very well, we need to get Anders something to wear that isn’t going to strangle him and I really just can’t look at you for long. I’m sorry.” Invictus said before he finished the rest of his brandy, then coughed as he choked on the potent drink.

Solona frowned as she stepped closer to the dark mage. “We’re... cousins, I heard you say so earlier. I was wondering who you remind me of. Aristade Amell - you have his eyes,” she said softly. “I remember the portraits. And there’s something.... Hawke, isn’t it? Do I... remind you of someone?” she asked softly.

“His sister,” said Anders quietly as he tugged at the collar. Even with the corset loosened, he was finding it hard to breathe. “Hawke... he lost his family. I guess in a way... you’re all the family he has now.”

Fenris watched them carefully, saw the way Invictus’ face changed before he turned away from Solona and went to the mantle, his gaze on the fire as he tried to get himself together. He went over to his lover and slipped his arms around his waist, laid his head on his chest went still.

Invictus kissed the elf’s hair, the jet black colour strange to him as he leaned his cheek on top of Fenris’ head. “I love you, I’m sorry.” he said softly.

Nathaniel glanced at Zevran, who had not moved since being laid in the chair, then moved across to Anders’ chair, hitching a hip up to perch on the arm of the chair beside Anders, draping an arm over the back of the chair. “We’ve missed you,” he said quietly. “It’s not been the same since you left.”

Anders shook his head. “I’m not coming back, Nathaniel.”

The raven-haired Grey Warden merely laid a hand on Anders’ feathered shoulder. Anders said nothing, but it felt comforting. He glanced at Zevran.

“I’m worried about him,” he said quietly.

Vic let go of Fenris finally with a last, brief kiss to the crown of raven hair. “So what now? Zevran hasn’t moved and he looks half-dead himself.”

“He’s in shock, he thought her dead and now he found her with no warning.” Fenris said as he went over and dropped to a crouch in front of the other elf. He snapped his fingers in front of the golden eyes, but got nothing in return. A gentle shake to his knee garnered no response. 

He turned to the mages in the room to ask if one of them could try to rouse him. “Anders, can you use Rejuvenate on him? Perhaps Invictus if your mana is low?”

Anders stood up with a nod, his hand falling away from the collar as he moved over to stand in front of Zevran. He laid a hand on the catatonic elf’s forehead, peering into his eyes carefully, then laid his other hand on Zevran’s chest. Both hands glowed as Anders closed his eyes, casting Rejuvenate then following it up with healing magic.

Zevran shuddered, and then his eyes closed as he exhaled in a wordless sigh. As Anders stepped back, the Antivan elf opened his eyes slowly, his gaze focusing on Fenris before flicking to Anders and finally falling on Solona.

“So it is true and not a dream,” he breathed. “You live. This is not possible - I saw your body. I saw you dead.”

“A decoy,” said Solona quietly as she watched him slowly push himself up to stand. He took a step towards her.

“You were dead. I thought a piece of me had died with you,” he said softly, taking another step.

“I am so, so sorry, Zevran,” she said faintly. He halted, staring at her, his face and eyes terribly blank.

“I mourned you,” he whispered.

“ _Mi amatus-_ ” she began, stepping towards him.

“I _mourned you!_ ” he suddenly screamed, his face twisting into a mask of grief and rage. “Do you have any idea what you did to me, Solona? I mourned you! I _died_ for you, Solona! This is not a living man that stands before you - you slayed him with your deception!”

Fenris started to go to Zevran but was grabbed around the waist by Anders. “But…” he said softly, his own heart hurting as he saw Zevran fall to pieces in front of them. He knew that tone, that rage and pain far too well to stand idly there and not try to comfort the other elf. He was held fast, forced to watch them play out their unexpected reunion. 

Invictus didn’t move from his spot by the mantle, a sleep spell at the ready in case Zevran needed to be calmed or subdued. The grief in his words, the pain kept him in place as he watched.

Zevran clutched at his hair, face contorted by wild grief, and screamed hoarsely, unable to take his eyes from the woman he had thought dead.

“Zevran, please,” begged Solona as she stepped towards him and reached for him. “I am so sorry. I had to do it. The whole world had to believe the Warden was dead.”

“You did not trust me,” whispered Zevran raggedly as his chest heaved, fighting back the sobs that threatened to tear from his throat. “After all I have given for you, you did not trust me.”

“It was not a matter of trust, beloved,” said Solona as she wrapped her slender arms around him and drew him close; he let his hands fall to his side, not returning her embrace as she buried her face against his chest.

“How can I ever believe anything you say ever again?” breathed the Antivan. “You have betrayed me utterly. You have destroyed me. I wanted to die. I still want - Solona -”

He crumpled slowly, curling forward, burying his face in her dark hair as his hands finally rose to wrap around her shoulders, the tears finally coming as he began to sob brokenly.

“ _Mi Amatus_ ,” Solona cried quietly.

“ _Carissimi. Carissimi,_ ” he breathed, over and over as he wept.

Anders turned away and buried his face in Fenris’ hair, his own eyes wet, unable to breathe properly.

Fenris swallowed down the lump in his throat as he pulled away and fell into the chair that Anders had vacated. He’d never paid attention, or thought too much about what Zevran called him, but now it was clear. What he meant to the other elf and he wanted to rip his own heart out, because he didn’t know if he felt the same. The love he saw before him was tangible, what he felt with Invictus made manifest.

Had Anders perished it would hurt him, he would grieve but it would not utterly destroy him as the loss of Hawke. With time he’d care for the former warden just as much, but he had years between himself and the Champion. Not with the blond apostate. He covered his ears and dipped his head so he could block out the words, not hear what he’d not carelessly ignored for all the time with the other elf.

Solona and Zevran were oblivious to everyone around them. Nathaniel cleared his throat slightly as he stood up, his own eyes looking suspiciously bright as he fetched the bottle of brandy and moved around the room, topping up everyone’s glasses with generous measures. He shoved a glass into Fenris’ hands before moving to Anders, shoving another glass into the apostate’s nerveless fingers and filling it before taking a long pull directly from the bottle.

“I don’t want-” began Anders, but Nathaniel merely growled at him. 

“Drink it.”

Anders obediently drank, grateful for the warm burn of the spirits as he swallowed.

Fenris drank the whole glass in one long swallow then held it out for a refill. 

Invictus came over and sat in front of Fenris, pulled the elf’s arms around him and ignored the happy reunion happening before him.

Nathaniel took another pull, topped up Anders’ glass then handed the bottle to Fenris before turning to Anders and reaching for the collar. Anders recoiled and shook his head.

“No - wait -”

Nathaniel growled again and pulled the apostate closer with one hand curled around the back of Anders’ neck before he unbuckled the collar and threw it to the ground then ripped at the laces of the corset. “You can’t breathe, you’ve gone white and you’re going to faint in a minute. Hold still and let me get you out of this thing.”

Fenris turned at the sound of the cords being yanked roughly out if the corset, his gaze on how Anders didn't flinch or pull away from the other warden. As if they were...familiar with each other.

"You've done that before. Undressing him," the elf said quietly.

Nathaniel glanced briefly at the elf. “A time or two, yes,” he nodded. “We were in the Grey Wardens together for a few years.” He glanced at Anders. “Anders was forever getting himself hurt and not letting us know until he practically dropped from blood loss. Or drinking too much of Oghren’s special brew. I got fairly used to having to get him out of his clothes.”

“And enjoyed it,” muttered Anders tiredly without thinking. “Don’t deny it.”

“Never did,” replied Nathaniel with a quick grin as he threw the corset aside then stroked a hand down Anders’ spine.

Fenris couldn't help the growl that slipped out when the other warden casually touched Anders. 

"Pot...kettle," Vic murmured from where he was nearly asleep from his spot in front of the elf. Too much drink and no breakfast had him ready to roll over and sleep again.

Anders glanced at Fenris with a look of alarm. “Nathaniel, maybe you should be less handsy,” he murmured quietly to the other Grey Warden.

“Why?” asked Nathaniel as he leaned in closer, his fingers trailing idly up and down Anders’ spine. “I’ve missed you.”

“Because the growling elf over there is my boyfriend and I don’t think he’s keen on sharing. Also he can rip your heart out of your chest.”

“Now that sounds like a challenge,” purred Nathaniel, but he stepped away with a slight bow towards Fenris.

The elf turned away with a scowl. He didn't own Anders, nor did Invictus but he felt a hot flash of jealousy at how easily the other man handled the mage.

Vic sighed and kissed Fenris' palms and curled up against his legs. "Easy love, he's not running back to the wardens."

“What about that Hawke fellow?” asked Nathaniel in an undertone. 

“I wouldn’t,” warned Anders. “Do you have a death wish or something?”

“You mean... all three of you...?” Nathaniel’s eyebrows quirked up as he bent down to pick up the corset.

“Nathaniel, drop it!” hissed Anders frantically as he snatched the corset off the other Warden. Nathaniel slowly straightened with a small grin playing across his lips. “Tell me, Anders, is there anyone in this room you _haven’t_ slept with?” he murmured very quietly.

Anders choked.

"I take it by your silence that you've had everyone?" Fenris asked, his voice had gone flat and toneless.

Anders froze, motionless, and closed his eyes.

Solona glanced up at the sudden silence in the room. Zevran had fallen quiet, his forehead resting on her shoulder, his eyes closed; all other eyes were on the blond apostate who stood still, clutching the corset to his chest. Her eyes flicked to Fenris.

“It was a long time ago,” she said quietly. “Would you hold a man’s past against him? Anders was a free man to seek his comforts where he chose. The Grey Wardens are perhaps more... physically affectionate than you might expect; any of us could die at any time. You learn to take your comforts where you can. Anders has done nothing to be ashamed of.”

Fenris glowered at Solona, bitter words on his tongue at how she didn't know him and to keep her thoughts to herself. Instead he untangled himself from Invictus, buckled the collar on so he would draw no attention outside their room and left for their rooms.

"Shit...shit," Vic said before he scrambled to his feet.

Anders let the corset drop to the floor and groaned. “Thank you so much, Howe, you’ve made my life so immeasurably more complicated. Again.”

“I’m sorry, Anders, I didn’t realise he was so possessive of you. I was... well, I was more impressed than anything else, to be quite honest. You’ve not changed at all, have you?” He grinned.

Anders glared at him. “Oh, I have,” he said quietly, his voice dangerously low. “More than you could ever dream. You have no idea what’s happened to me, Nathaniel Howe, and if you expect to find me the same man you thought you knew back in Vigil’s Keep then you’re very much mistaken. That man died. A templar called Rolan put his sword through his heart.” He bent and snatched up the collar, buckling it swiftly around his own throat, his eyes never leaving Nathaniel’s.

“Now I have to go and try and fix this pile of shit you just dropped me in. Thank you _so_ much,” he said bitterly.

“Anders, I know you-” began Nathaniel, but Anders cut him off.

“No, Nathaniel, you _don’t_ know! You never did.” He glared at the other Warden then turned on his heel, leaving the corset forgotten on the floor.

Invictus called out but was ignored as Anders blew past him. He turned to the remaining wardens and Zevran with a low groan. “This is proof the Maker hates me.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Solona. “I think He’s about equal opportunities myself - He’s certainly shat on my life enough times.”

“I’d better cast Silence over there and come back. If I know Fenris he’s going to either scream his head off or be so silent, you’d think he’d gone mute.” Vic hauled himself up and went out to their doorway, and cast a ward of Silence that keep their argument within the room. He returned and flopped into a chair tiredly.

“Well, what to do while we wait?” he said in a tone that was far too cheerful for the occasion.

Anders followed Fenris into their room then halted just inside the door. “Fenris.”

“Anders.” the elf replied angrily as he ripped the collar off his neck and flung it across the room. 

Anders’ eyes followed the collar as it flew across the room, then returned to the elf. “You’re angry. Is this because of... my past? You must have known I’d had other lovers.” 

“I’m not angry at you. I left so I wouldn’t snap at your warden. She doesn’t fucking know me, I don’t need to be lectured by her. I know you have had other lovers, I’m not stupid, you’ve had a life before us, that would be ridiculous to assume otherwise.” Fenris snarled as he paced around the room.

“Love... most people wouldn’t understand the pressures Grey Wardens have to face. She was only worried you might react badly and take it out on me. She’s right though - that was years ago. I’m not that man. You may have noticed, I... even though there’s been history between Zevran and I, I... I couldn’t. I’m just not that man any more. Yes, I’ve shagged or been shagged by every person in that room. Doesn’t mean I will now.”

“I know that Anders. It’s why I walked out. I just wanted to be alone to gather my thoughts. I didn’t think of how it might appear to you, my apologies.” Fenris sat on the bed and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “I fucking hate this, this farce of being a slave again, all of it.” his voice broke at the tail end of his sentence and he slumped forward.

“We’re not even in Tevinter and already I hate it,” agreed Anders as he dropped down onto the other bed. “It’s going to get worse, isn’t it?” He tugged at the collar without realising he was doing it.

“Take that fucking thing off, I’m sick of seeing you tug at it.” Fenris muttered tiredly.

Anders’ hand dropped. “Sorry, I... I really hate having something around my neck, it... I’ll get used to it faster if I keep it on, but... if you’d rather -” He fell silent, then reached up and unbuckled it. There was a ring of red chafed skin around his throat in spite of the silk lining.

“Venhedis.” Fenris hissed as he saw how Anders’ throat looked raw. “Get some cream or lotion, and heal yourself. It must be too tight, I buckled it too tight and now your neck is red.”

Anders put his hand to his throat and swallowed. “No, it’s probably because I kept pulling at it. It’s not so bad though. At least this collar is lined. The ones the templars put on me-” He broke off and closed his eyes briefly.

“Do you wish to speak of it?” Fenris said softly.

Anders swallowed again. “It... it was rougher than this. Unlined. Thick. A- a little wider too, I think; it forced my head up. It rubbed so much my throat was always bleeding. It got infected once; the only time they took it off and let me heal myself. Not sure why. They didn’t care about any of my other wounds.” His voice was distant, as though he were talking more to himself.

“I had to wear a Saarebas collar sometimes. It was heavy, burned when the sun got too hot in the summer.” Fenris added, his voice hollow as he reached over to squeeze Anders fingers between his.

“They’d chain me to the wall so my toes could barely touch the ground, and with the collar I couldn’t sleep,” Anders said softly. “They’d leave me like that... I don’t know how long. I’d lose track of time. They hoped I’d give in to temptation, to a demon. I never did though.” His eyes were staring through Fenris, not seeing him. 

“Because you’re stronger than they realized, or hoped.” the elf said with another squeeze to his fingers. He leaned against the mage and sighed. “Can I tell you something, and promise you’ll try not to get upset?”

“Yes,” said Anders quietly, his voice almost devoid of tone, his mind still on memories of a small dark cell, cold iron shackles and long sleepless nights.

“When Hawke...took you last night, it broke my heart. I knew why, that you had to put on a good show, but hearing you call him Master undid me.” the elf admitted slowly, his gaze on the floor as he awaited Anders’ reaction.

Anders blinked slowly, coming back to himself. “I... called him that?” he asked, startled.

“Yes, I don’t think...you couldn’t hear yourself. You two were very, vocal.” Fenris replied.

Anders stared at him. “I don’t remember,” said Anders in a small voice. He remembered the burning feeling inside when he’d woken. Blood on the sheet. _Master. Domne._ His eyes widened.

“Yes, that’s what you screamed out for him. I couldn’t take it and was angry all night about it. There’s no good reason for me to be, we’ve played rough with you before, but it was different last night.” Fenris replied, his tone remorseful. “I didn’t mean to upset you love.”

Anders got to his feet and abruptly tore away the blanket, staring at the brown patch of dried blood. He stared at it, then at the collar he still held in his hand; the hand that had begun to tremble.

“Anders?” the elf called to him and laid his hand on the mage’s back, carefully. “Anders, talk to me.”

“We did what we had to,” said Anders quietly. “We weren’t to know it was Solona. Hawke thought it was a real magistra, who would expect to hear....” He fell silent for a moment. “He did what he had to. He... had to.” He turned slowly to Fenris. “It will get worse,” he said slowly, a note of certainty in his voice.

“I know, I know,” the elf said tiredly. Fenris fell back and stared at the ceiling. “Feel free to put me to sleep if I start to break. Better you be seen as managing an unruly fellow slave than me acting out of turn.” 

“I think you’ll last better than I will,” said Anders quietly. “Fenris... slave mages... I’ll be expected to be paraded every time there’s another magister around, won’t I? Maybe... maybe with Solona there as well it won’t be so bad....”

Fenris started to laugh at the idea he’d last better than Anders. He laughed until he started crying and curled up on the bed. “Me...last, Maker that’s funny. I’m about a few minutes from an utter breakdown as it is, me last longer.” the elf said before he started a fresh round of hysterics.

Anders stared at him aghast for a few minutes, then turned away, clenching his fist hard around the collar until the leather edges bit into his fingers. He knew the laughter was a front for Fenris’ own fears, but he didn’t think he could handle it - or Fenris - like this. He turned and strode into the other room, then halted as he stared at the bed there. He finally turned to face the cold fireplace and stood there, staring at the empty grate.

The elf’s laughter died down and he realized he was alone in the room. He went out and wrapped his arms around the tall human mage. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t hold that in anymore. This whole thing is going to be very bad for me Anders, I apologize in advance for how I may act.” Fenris sobered up and turned so he was facing him.

“I’ll have to deal with it, because magisters will have no qualms about touching, feeling, demanding to see what you are. They may even try to duel him in the street for you. I have no doubt he’d destroy any magister who dared try, but I will have to rein myself in when you are touched, and trust that Vic will keep them from doing that too often. At night, we can at least take comfort in each other.” Fenris sighed and leaned against his other mage lover.

“W-will Hawke have to do... what he did last night... often?” asked Anders in a quiet voice. “Will... will he and Solona be able to stop other magisters from - from using me like that? Am I his- his personal property, or would he b-be expected to....” Anders couldn’t finish. This was almost worse than templars, than the tower.

“I doubt he’ll need to do that. Not in the company of other magisters and unless he said so, no magister will expect to use you. Unless he offers but I have no fear he’d do that. In the eyes of Tevinter, we all are his. I’m an elf, at least you’re his favorite, he could tell me to drop to my knees in the street and let anyone use me if he wished it. I am in more danger of these abuses than you.” Fenris was going to continue, but a knock at the door stopped him. “Stay, I will answer it.”

“Wait!” said Anders, and hastily buckled on the collar. “G-go on,” he said after a moment.

“Who is it?” Fenris asked through the thin wooden door.

“Hawke, let me in.” he hissed.

Fenris opened the door just enough to let Hawke in and shut it quickly. “What is it Hawke?”

Anders turned towards Hawke, a faint hint of alarm in his amber eyes. “What’s happened? Is it Zevran?”

“No, I was checking on you two. You’ve been in here for a while. Are things ok with you both?” Invictus asked, his gaze trailing over the mark on Fenris’ neck from the collar he’d worn earlier.

Anders followed Invictus’ glance and drew his breath in sharply. He turned and strode swiftly to the other room, not quite running. He cast his glance around for the leather collar then snatched it up and returned, pushing it hastily into Fenris’ hands.

“An accident - he didn’t mean to forget it, it won’t happen again M-” he checked himself. “Hawke.”

Hawke refreshed the Silence spell then glared at Anders. “Never, ever call me that again. Not here, no...just no. You’re not my pet, this is a farce and something that will stay with me for all my days. Just...if you’re ok, come back into Solona’s room so we can figure out a plan to get the fuck out of Tevinter as fast as we can.”

Fenris stared at Anders, a pained look on his face. “You’re not really a slave, you know that right? Nor am I or Zevran. He’s not our...Ma...mas…” the elf snapped his mouth shut, unable to say the word.

Anders stared at him, faint bewilderment on his face. “Not - wait, what did I....” He put a hand to his head and blinked. “No. Of course not. You’re not a slave. We’re - it’s just until we get through Tevinter. An act.” He sounded almost as though he were trying to convince himself.

Fenris looked at the collar, then at Vic and then Anders. He held it out to Invictus as his hand shook. “I...can’t.”

“No...that’s something I can’t take back. No.” Vic stepped back so fast he slammed into the door. 

Anders stared at the collar then silently held his hand out.

“Come...here.” Fenris said shakily.

Anders obeyed, moving to stand in front of the elf, his eyes on the floor. 

Fenris dropped the collar into his hand, and closed his eyes, tears trailing down as he leaned his head forward and waited.

Anders placed the collar gently around the elf’s neck, laying two fingers against the back of Fenris’ neck before he started to buckle it with his other hand, his fingers deft and sure. As he did so, he leaned forward.

“This does not make you any less than me or beneath me. You are no man’s slave. You permit me to do this of your own free will,” he murmured softly. “You are a free man. No chains can ever truly bind you. You are no man’s slave. No man will ever be your master. You are stronger than any collar that you could ever bear.”

He slipped his fingers free, trailing them gently along Fenris’ ear then along the line of Fenris’ jaw before tilting the elf’s head up until the elf was forced gently to meet Anders’ eyes and see a wealth of sorrow and understanding there. “You are free,” breathed Anders. “And I am so sorry that this is necessary.”

“I know.” Fenris said hoarsely before he wiped his face dry and faced Invictus before he deliberately bowed to him. “I live to serve domne, direct me as you will.”

Anders turned to stand beside him and mimicked his bow, suddenly all too painfully aware of his state of undress, barefoot and with just the flimsy skirts and feathered pauldrons covering him.

Invictus nodded and turned to leave, before he ran screaming from the inn. As long as he lived, the image of Fenris bowing to him and calling him domne would haunt him. “Come along, we’ve already had more delays than I would like.” Vic said as he strode down the hall towards Solona’s rooms.

Solona and Nathaniel were quietly talking when they returned. Anders glanced around for Zevran and saw him lying curled up on the large bed that dominated the room; he appeared to be sleeping. With a glance to Invictus then Fenris, he retrieved the corset from the floor.

Solona watched him, glanced at Fenris, then raised an eyebrow at Invictus. It was uncanny; the Champion couldn’t help but recall how Leandra had given him that look so many times when he’d been fighting with Carver yet again.

Fenris went over to help Anders, his face set to nothingness, and he made sure that it wasn’t laced so tight the mage couldn’t breathe. Once Anders was attired, he turned to Invictus and Solona. “Would it please my lord and lady to have lunch sent up?” he stared at Invictus, his gaze empty as it had been so many years under Danarius.

“Y...yes.” Invictus stuttered.

Solona straightened and strode over to join Invictus, elbowing him in the ribs as she halted in a movement so graceful and subtle Fenris might almost have missed it. “That would be acceptable,” she informed Fenris, then turned to Invictus. “If you stammer in front of your ... property... in public in Tevinter, others will notice. They will think you weak, and they will challenge you.” She gestured at Anders. “A pet spirit healer would fetch a pretty price and much bloodshed in the market at Minrathous. You must not allow them to think you an easy mark or him a worthwhile target or you will be fighting every step of the Imperial Highway.” 

She inclined her head at Fenris. “You understand this far better than he does, I can see,” she said. “You will have to help me coach Hawke.”

“Solona, don’t push it,” said Anders quietly. “Perhaps you should be the one to give orders in Tevinter. Obeying you will just seem normal for me, and it should not sting quite as much for Fenris as taking an order from his lover would.”

“He has a point,” agreed Nathaniel. “And Tevene women are notoriously headstrong and bossy anyway.” 

Invictus glowered at her but held his tongue until the urge to tell her off passed. “Sorry that I don’t fall into line as a magister easily. Do whatever the fuck we have to in order to survive this.” Vic said tiredly as he threw himself into the nearest chair and groaned tiredly. “I’m never leaving Kirkwall again after this, I swear to Maker.”

Fenris slipped out of the room to order food for their group and returned with a tray, wine, water and tea. “Mistress, refreshments until lunch is served.” he bowed gracefully then set the tray on the table, and waited for further orders.

“Very good. We will be departing on the morrow. Nathaniel, whilst we eat you may show this one to the stables and instruct him as to which of the horses are ours.” She turned away and gestured to Anders. “You may serve us, pet.” There was no warmth or affection in her voice when she said “pet”; she may as well have been talking about an item of furniture.

Somehow it seemed easier to tolerate from Solona however. Anders had seen her put on acts like this before - in front of Ferelden nobles, facing down templars, dealing with anyone who got in her way. This time it was the Tevinter Empire itself. He turned and began to serve her and Invictus as Nathaniel got to his feet and nodded to Fenris.

He kept himself in check and followed behind Nathaniel obediently, not a word out of him. Fenris didn’t know much about horses, but he wouldn’t dare say so in public. “This one understands ser, how else may I serve?” 

Nathaniel glanced around cautiously. “We’re alone, you can drop it for now - Fenris, was it?” he said quietly. “Solona figured maybe it’d be easier for you if you didn’t have to sit there whilst she and Hawke play at being magisters right now. She has no idea what’s really going on, but I think I can guess.” He turned and eyed Fenris sharply. “You speak Tevene like you were born to it, and I think you were. You were a slave, weren’t you?”

Fenris glared at him. “This one was, yes ser.” 

Nathaniel grinned. “Very good,” he said softly. “You’re going to remember and keep them in line even when they forget and slip up, aren’t you?” He nodded slowly. “Hawke is going to make the worst magister ever. Solona’s suggestion is that they play brother and sister, with her the elder - that way her taking charge will just seem natural. She’ll give the orders, he’ll be the dilettante little brother who picked up a pretty Ferelden slave on their last trip out. She’s worked out how to get us all to Seheron.”

“As mistress wishes, we will obey ser.” Fenris said softly, sure to keep his gaze to the ground and not on the warden in front of him.

“We ought to get back, but I should warn you of one more thing, Fenris.” Nathaniel waited to be sure the elf was listening. “Solona will order Anders to attend her tonight.” He studied the elf to gauge his reaction.

Fenris didn’t move, didn’t blink as he processed what Nathaniel had said. He bowed further before he spoke. “I may only hope he pleases his Mistress, as we will all suffer should he fail.”

Nathaniel leaned in close to the elf’s ear. “Nothing will happen. You have my word on it. She merely needs to be able to speak to Anders freely about what happened to drive him from the Wardens, and this is the best way for her to do it. She will not lay hands on him, on my life. We heard the noise last night, and she’s very worried for him.” 

The Warden caught the sound of a footstep outside the stables and he pulled back. “Worthless knife-ear, what use are you to our mistress?” he roared suddenly. “You don’t even know an ass from your arse! Pray the mistress feels charitable and settles merely for making you lick up the crumbs from the floor for your food, you wretch!”

The stable boy glanced in the door, disinterested, then wandered away, uninterested in the fate of one elf slave in a place that saw hundreds passing through in a season.

“Forgive me ser, I am nothing. I live to serve.” Fenris glanced up at Nathaniel and broke character. “He’s fine, fine as can be. They played up to who they thought was a magistra nothing more.” with that, Fenris dropped back to his servile role, eyes down, contrite and passive.

Nathaniel shook his head. “I know a scream of pain when I hear one, and I saw the way he limped when he came downstairs before he fainted,” he murmured before he strode past the elf, not looking back to see if Fenris followed.

The elf followed obediently and kept quiet as a good slave should. He dropped to his knees next to Invictus and remained still, perfectly composed as he was used to.

Anders was kneeling at Solona’s side; she was feeding him from her plate with her fingers. His cheeks were burning red, but he stared straight ahead, accepting each tidbit she held out to him.

Invictus stood and excused himself, unable to bear witness to what they were doing. He knew it was necessary, but he hated it. “Come Leto, I need you in our rooms. Don’t damage my pet, or you’ll pay.” he growled at Solona, an honest threat under his words.

“Invictus,” Solona said in a quiet voice threaded with steel. “Anders needs to learn this. He needs to be immaculately behaved in public. I am doing this for his own protection.” She lifted her eyes from the morsel of food in her fingers to pin him with her stare before turning back to Anders.

“I know, but I need some time to accept it. No matter what you heard or think you know of me, I’m not that fucking cruel. Just leave me alone for a while. Enjoy this, since I can’t.” Vic’s voice was harsh as he snapped his fingers for Fenris to follow him to their room.

Fenris rose and followed behind Invictus, without so much as a glance at Anders, or Zevran as he lay asleep on the bed.

Solona focused on Anders and held out another piece of food. “That’s it,” she murmured as he accepted it. “You’re doing fine.”

“You’re being too hard on him,” said Anders softly after he swallowed. She held out another morsel and he opened his mouth for it.

“On the contrary,” she replied, glancing up at the door. “I fear I’m not being hard enough.”

Invictus didn’t respond to her last words, but he nearly slammed the door before he slid down and crumpled. He cast a silence on the room before he broke down before his lover.

Fenris ran a hand over his face and sighed, then leaned down to pull Invictus back up to his feet.

“You know it’s for Anders’ own good,” he breathed quietly. “I like it no more than you do love.”

“It doesn’t mean I’ve got to like it. Are you going to tell me I can’t be upset? I’m not...I can’t be a magister, how can he just...accept this?” Vic said tiredly.

“No, I’m not saying that at all, love,” said Fenris as he held the mage closely. “He accepts it because he must. He must learn to be the perfect slave in order to survive when we cross into Tevinter. If he seems poorly trained, any passing magister may take it into their heads to discipline him; it is the way of things in Tevinter. Would you see him whipped and humiliated in the streets because he has not learned the behaviour I learned at my mother’s knee?”

“Alright, I’m sorry I’m not cut out for this at all. I don’t think I could do this after all. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry beloved for all of this.” Vic said quietly.

“We have no choice,” said Fenris firmly. “You know this. Solona will play the magistra, you her idle brother, and Anders will play his role. We will ride far and fast and get through as swift we may. There is no other way now we have come this far.”

“I know, just...fuck. I hate magisters, I hate Tevinter and I hate that Anders looks so fuckng content kneeling at her feet like a damned dog.” Vic snarled before he went to the bed and laid face down. “Love...remind me that this isn’t real, that you can do as you please. Take me, and damn what convention around here is. I need you.” Vic pleaded, his request muffled by the bedding.

“Vic...this may not be--” Fenris started to say but was cut off by a whimpered plea.

“Fuck me, take me hard and fast. It’s what I need love. Please?” 

Fenris stared at the mage. He’d almost never felt less like sex in his life. After the sounds he’d heard Anders make the evening before, the sight of the blond apostate upon his knees taking food from a magistra’s hand like a lapdog, sex was the last thing on his mind.

He shook his head. “Vic, I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Then hold me? I...can’t be alone right now.” Invictus whispered.

Fenris silently went to the bed and crawled across to Invictus, drawing him into his arms. “I’m sorry, love,” he said quietly. “I marvel that you could want that at all at a time like this. But this? This I can give you.”

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to feel something besides hollow inside.” the Champion said quietly as he wrapped around Fenris and sighed. “That self hate we’ve worked so hard to dispel? This is worse.”

“Sex will not fill that void, love. Believe me, I’ve tried.” Fenris sighed. 

“It would be a distraction that would make me feel physically better at least.” Vic replied. He nuzzled against the elf, but frowned at the cold ring from his collar and how it pressed against his chest. “I fucking hate that collar. I can’t believe I ever wanted you to do that to me.” he whispered.

“I could never have done it,” answered the elf softly. “Now you see why.”

“Forgive me for asking this of you. I want to burn it the second we’re out of this forsaken place.” Vic sighed. “I want to turn myself in to Carver for things I’ve had to do here, how can a mage be like this all the time?” he wondered.

“It is what they are used to,” replied Fenris. “They are raised from birth to believe magic makes them something other than what they are - mortal men. Tevinter society is alien to the concept of hubris. A man has what power he can grasp, and their society teaches them to be greedy. It is easy to treat others as mere property when you have been taught it is your right from the moment you cast your first spell.”

“I was such a fool to hate myself for merely having magic. This is what I should have loathed instead.” Vic pressed a soft kiss to the elf’s throat, nothing more than a show of affection. “I will be better about loving you Fenris, I swear it.”

Fenris pressed gentle kisses along Invictus’ jaw. “A few more weeks. We can all endure this, Vic. You will see.”

"I hope so. Let's just get some sleep." Vic closed his eyes and sighed tiredly.

Fenris shifted uncomfortably. "Wait. I want to change the bedding," he muttered as he pulled away and sat up.

Invictus was going to protest but swallowed it when he saw the stains. "Of course." He moved so Fenris could change the sheets.

Fenris stripped the bedding swiftly. “I will not sleep in Anders’ blood,” he muttered as he bundled the dirty linen in a corner then hunted for fresh linens.

Vic merely watched him, he had nothing to say.

Fenris made the bed swiftly and efficiently, then went to gather up the dirty laundry. He fingered the stain then stared at Invictus, his expression unreadable, before he turned away and left with the dirty sheets. He reappeared some minutes later and crept into the bed. He kept to himself the words of incrimination which were on his tongue, but they ran through his mind: how could Invictus not have noticed the damage he had done to their apostate lover? How could he fail to care for him after hurting him like that?

Fenris bit his tongue and said nothing.

Vic crawled into bed but turned away to face the wall, guilt gnawed at him after the look he'd been given.

They both drifted into an uneasy sleep, from which they were awoken perhaps an hour later by Anders. The blond apostate knelt by the side of the bed.

“Master, the Mistress says you must rise for dinner,” he said quietly as Invictus opened his eyes.

Vic simply nodded and got up to wash his face and try to get into the proper mindset. The guilt he felt ate at him until he stood in front of Anders and made him look him in the eye.

"I'm sorry for last night, please forgive me. Some day."

Anders didn’t pull away as Invictus lifted his chin with one firm hand, but his eyes met Invictus’ only briefly as the other mage spoke and then dropped.

“I don’t remember it,” he said tonelessly. “It’s a blur.”

"Still I harmed you, and I'm sorry love."

“You did what was needful. You weren’t to know the magistra was really Solona.” Anders remained withdrawn.

Invictus sighed and turned to look at Fenris. The elf stood behind them, silent as a good solace ought to be. "Come along, let's get this over with.”

Anders and Fenris followed him as he returned to Solona’s rooms. The Warden had had dinner sent up to her rooms, and as the three men crossed the threshold of her suite she gestured. Fenris felt his brands prickle as a powerful Silence spell enveloped the room.

“We may speak freely now,” she said. She glanced at Anders. “You can eat normally with us now Anders.”

Anders moved over to the table that was laden with food and picked up a plate before glancing at Solona; she waved him on with a small smile.

Zevran was sitting in a chair, a glass of brandy untouched in one hand.

Fenris filled his own plate and ate slowly, he wasn’t in the mood to eat but he knew he’d need his strength. He glanced over at Zevran then to the others in the room, his mood was low but there was nothing to be done about it. 

Invictus ate quietly and shoved his plate back once he was done, and rested his forehead against his hands tiredly. “So when do we leave and how fast can we get the fuck out of Tevinter?”

Nathaniel put a plate of food in Zevran’s lap; the Antivan glanced down at it, then looked away.

“We leave tomorrow,” said Solona, glancing at Zevran worriedly. “We’ll ride along the Imperial Highway until evening.”

“Is there anything else we need to discuss? Otherwise I’d like to spend time with Anders for a bit, unless of course you plan to feed him at your feet again?” Invictus snarled.

Anders dropped his fork.

“Invictus…” Fenris warned with a scowl.

Solona merely stared at Invictus until he was forced to drop his gaze first. She gave a small nod of satisfaction. “We will ride as brother and sister, I the elder. Nathaniel is our servant, Zevran my personal bodyguard, Fenris yours. Anders will be the spirit healer we picked up in Ferelden. My two elven servants who accompanied us this far will be turning back; too large a group will attract attention. We will make for the crossroads then head north alongside the river to Vyrantium where we will take ship to Alam. There is a push in Tevinter to retake Seheron and there have been calls for families with property on Seheron to join the Imperial forces and occupy their former settlements. We will pose as siblings seeking to reclaim our parents’ modest estate.”

“Anything else?” Invictus asked frostily.

Zevran’s head swivelled to stare flatly at the Champion, though he said nothing.

“Vic leave well enough alone, this is hard enough on all of us as it is.” Fenris said tiredly. “Go talk with Anders, I wish to speak with Zevran.” 

Anders glanced to Solona; she nodded to him. He laid aside his napkin, leaving his meal only half-eaten as he rose to his feet and walked over to Invictus, his eyes on the floor.

Vic sighed and led Anders back to their rooms so they could speak privately. That left Fenris with a bunch of people he didn’t know, and one that he wasn’t sure would speak even if prodded. He went over and knelt before Zevran, his fingers brushed his cheek lightly. “Zev?”

The Antivan elf lifted his head and gave Fenris a faint, wan smile. “Hello, my friend,” he said quietly.

“I feared you were gone from us. Do you wish to talk to me in the other room?” Fenris asked softly. 

“Do not fear, beloved,” Zevran replied quietly. “I will not retreat like that again. A man can only withstand such shock for so long before it either kills him or he must live. I breathe still, therefore I must still live, no?” He laid aside the plate, still untouched, then rose to his feet. “Lead on, I shall follow.”

“Zevran,” called Solona gently. The Antivan glanced to her. She gave him a sad smile. “Take as long as you need.”

Zevran bowed to her, then turned to Fenris.

The taller Tevinter elf led them into the small side room and shut the door behind him quietly. “How are you, the truth.”

“Truthfully? I do not know, _carissimi_ ,” Zevran answered as he sat upon one of the beds. “I never thought to ever see her alive. When I laid my eyes upon her, I thought my heart would stop. I could not breathe - dared not, lest she might vanish like a dream. She lives. I... do not know how I am.”

“If you wish to speak of such things, I am here for you.” Fenris watched his every move for a while before he spoke again. “What does Mi Amatus mean?”

“An endearment. It means ‘my dear one’,” said Zevran. “Solona valued my life at a time when I did not. When first we met, I was a Crow. I was seeking death, and I had accepted a contract to kill the Warden. She chose to spare me, and I followed her ever after. I swore I would follow her even into death itself, but I failed in that. Now I find she did not die. Had I died, my death would have been meaningless, and yet it was life itself that seemed devoid of meaning without her - until I met you, _carissimi_.” He turned to Fenris, one hand lifting to ghost lightly over the other elf’s cheek. 

Fenris’ eyes closed and he tried to keep himself from showing how his heart. “Now that you have your warden, you’ll go with her once our business in Seheron is done then?” he asked.

Zevran’s hand fell. “I do not know,” he admitted quietly, the faint smile gone. 

“You know Vic won’t let...he, I doubt he’d want you to join us. Why does this hurt so much?” Fenris put his hand over Zevran’s heart and let it rest there. “I didn’t understand what you meant when you called me _carissimi_. Now that I do, I feel the fool for not knowing.” 

Zevran lowered his head a little. “Ah, well, maybe the fault there was mine,” he shrugged. “I have ever played the light-hearted fool perhaps and given the impression I bestowed my affections shallowly and freely, have I not? And you found it hard to believe I might genuinely care for you.”

He lifted his eyes to Fenris’ face. “Do you know how many people have seen me weep, _carissimi_?” he asked gently. “How many I have told that I loved them? How often I have even said the word ‘love’?”

“Less than I have, I suspect.” Fenris pulled him to him suddenly and clung to the other elf. “I know you care for me, the fact you have done so much, gone so far. I am sorry I did not take your endearment to heart.” 

Zevran’s arms lifted to wrap around Fenris in turn. “And I think perhaps you also feel guilty, because you cannot return my love with the same intensity, can you, _carissimi_?” he said sadly. His arms tightened slightly as he felt Fenris start to draw away and protest; he shook his head. “I see it in your eyes, my love. I am no fool, even if I must play one.” He pulled away and gave Fenris a sad smile. “It is no matter. It has been enough to give me reason to go on when I would have long ago given up.”

The Tevinter elf dropped his head to Zevran’s shoulder to keep the sob that threatened to escape in his throat. He couldn’t stop the slight trembling that started as he stood there with Zevran in his arms. 

“Shh, it is well, do not cry _carissimi_ ,” said Zevran soothingly as he gently rubbed Fenris’ back. “I have been fortunate. I do not consider myself an unlucky man. It is enough to know you hold at least some affection for me in your heart. It must be a most crowded place in your heart, great as it is, to hold so many there. You are a loving creature Fenris.”

“I’m not…I’m not Zevran. Do not give me more credit than I deserve.” Fenris rasped against his shoulder.

“You are here, are you not?” the Antivan murmured. “You could have left me to Solona. But you care about me enough to ask, to give me this comfort.”

“I feared you were gone after your grief and anger earlier. Gone away where you could not be reached.” Fenris said before he stood up straight, and brushed at his face. “My heart is not big enough, or strong enough I fear.” 

“I wished to be, it is true,” said Zevran, stepping away as his hands fell to his sides. “I grieved for Solona. I thought my heart had died with her, and I still cannot fully believe she lives.” He glanced away, wrapping his arms around his torso as he stared into the distance. “Part of me fears this is all a dream, that I will wake up and find she is still dead. I do not want to wake up.” He glanced back to Fenris then reached a hand up to lightly touch his face. “The paint has smeared a little, _carissimi_ ; let me retouch it before we join the others. The less Anders must do to conceal your true nature the less it will exhaust him.”

“It’s no dream, dreams don’t hurt this much.” Fenris said quietly then sat down so Zevran could do what he needed to conceal his markings.

“Some dreams do, _carissimi_ ,” breathed Zevran quietly as his nimble fingers set to work.

Fenris bit his lip and remained silent as Zevran touched up the face paint on him. His breath hitched but he didn’t give in to the tears he wanted to shed, instead he closed his eyes and waited for the other elf to finish.

When he was done with the little pots of colour, Zevran leaned in and gave Fenris a light, chaste kiss upon the lips before turning away to pack the cosmetics away in his satchel, his head low. “We should rejoin the others,” he said quietly.

“Give me a few minutes, please.” Fenris asked softly.

“Of course, _carissimi_ ,” replied Zevran. “Should I stay, or would you prefer to be alone?”

“Alone, I’m sorry...it’s, I just need a few minutes to get back to how I need to be.” Fenris said hoarsely.

Zevran inclined his head in acquiescence and withdrew from the room, leaving the raven-haired warrior to his thoughts.

Fenris fell into a cross-legged sit so he could focus on how he needed to perform while out there, to be that slave again, willing and able to jump when told to. Not the man he’d become. He finally found that hated blankness within himself. He came back to the room and stood behind Nathaniel, head bowed and silent as he’d been trained so long before.

** 

In the rooms next door, Anders glanced up from the chair near the empty fireplace; he looked restless, though he was evidently trying to conceal it; his fingers twisted against each other in his lap, occasionally lifting to tug at the collar then dropping after brushing the soft leather.

 

“I told you, I barely remember anything from last night, Hawke,” he said quietly. “You did what you had to, and evidently I played my part well enough to fool Solona and Nathaniel into thinking - well, I think it’s pretty clear what Solona thinks. But it doesn’t matter. It may as well have been happening to someone else; it’s all a blur to me.” He glanced back to the empty grate.

“It doesn’t matter, I made you bleed. I feel sick for doing it, and if you could have seen the look Fenris gave me. Please Anders, please. This whole thing is killing me, and seeing you so docile, acting the part too well is… it fucking hurts. I’m scared I’m going to do something wrong and mess it all up and blow our cover...and I just don’t want to see you eating out of her hand!” Vic admitted as he slumped further into the chair.

“It’s not so bad,” said Anders quietly. “It’s not like that year in solitary, at least. As slave masters go, Solona is very lenient by Tevinter standards from what she and Fenris have told me. It’s survival, Hawke; if I behave this way, nothing bad happens, I won’t draw attention to us and we have a better chance of getting through unhindered. If that means kneeling at your feet or Solona’s and being fed from her hands, then frankly I consider myself to be getting off lightly.” He threw his hands up briefly. “Andraste’s tits, I’ll sleep on the damned floor if that’s what it takes to make sure no-one looks at any of us twice.”

“Fine...fine. Just please accept my apology for what I did. Blur to you or no, I know I did it.” Vic said tiredly.

“Apology accepted,” said Anders quietly. “I warn you now though, if we all survive this, I am going to be the most arrogant toppiest demanding bastard in the whole of Thedas when we get home, just you watch.”

“That’s fine, I asked Fenris for that but he wasn’t in the mood. I don’t want this, I want to be home, I want to forget I ever met Zevran Arainai, or set foot outside the estate, let alone Kirkwall. I’m so fucking tired Anders, and I know I’m being selfish but I’m a hair shy of running to the first boat I can and leaving this to all of you, I’m not cut out to be a magister.”

“I don’t think you’d make a very good slave though love, and Solona will have her work cut out being a magistra in possession of one slave mage, let alone two,” Anders smiled ruefully. 

“Not funny.” Vic said tiredly. 

“Not really joking,” replied Anders. “I’m serious. I’m used to the kind of abuse I’m likely to get even with both you and Solona there to protect me. You were never in a Circle; it’s one thing to play at games in the bedroom, Invictus, but a very different thing entirely to be on the receiving end for real, to have to act like that as a matter of survival.” 

“Fine, you know more than I do of such things. I’ll just keep my mouth shut and play the idiot brother. It’s a role I’m used to after all.” Vic covered his face with his hand and glared into the fireplace. 

Anders glared at him then stood up and tugged at the corset laces, pulling them free with swift, angry jerks. 

“Alright, you self-centred brat,” he hissed as he threw the corset down. “Get up. Now.”

“Go back to Solona and play with her, I’m done talking to you.” Invictus replied without looking at the other mage.

Anders reached down and grabbed the other mage by the collar, forcibly dragging him to his feet and thrusting him back towards the corner of the room before advancing on him. “Tough, because I’m not done talking to you,” he growled.

“Now you want to fight me? What the fuck Anders?” Vic snapped as he got to his feet and in the blond mage’s face. “Now you have a backbone when it’s me but you just let her run roughshod on you?”

Anders shoved him hard in the chest until Invictus’ back slammed into the wall, glaring at him.

“There are over a hundred scars on my back, Invictus Endrin Hawke, and you are going to look at them. Touch them. Count them. You are not going to leave this room until you have. And then you are never, _never_ going to talk to me this way again.” He smiled grimly. “Or perhaps I’ll let you feel them another way. You won’t like that, Hawke. I promise you.”

He turned his back and pulled his hair aside. “Touch them. Start counting.”

“No, I think not Anders. I don’t know why you think you can fucking boss me around all of a sudden but it’s not happening. I get it, I’ve never been hurt like you have but have you considered it’s really fucking hard for me to see you kneeling at her feet like a docile puppy, someone I’ve come to love? Then having her order Fenris around like she owns him too? Fine, I get it, alright I fucking get it. Now stop this.”

Anders didn’t look around; his hands were clenched into fists. “No. You _don’t_ understand. This is all about how hard this is for you, but you just don’t get it. You only have to watch. Fenris and I... have to live this.”

He finally turned his head and fixed Invictus with an amber stare. “I have to _relive this_. For as long as it takes. So remember, while you’re wallowing in self pity, these scars on my back?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Believe me, I feel every single one and they all burn, Invictus Endrin Hawke, they _burn_ as though they were only laid on me this morning.”

Vic hung his head and nodded. “You’ve made your point. Unless you plan to still force me to see and touch and count. I’ve seen your back, or did you forget the night Fenris and I spent showing you how we cared? I guess that meant nothing? It’s not self pity for once, it’s me hurting because you and Fenris are hurting. The men I love are in pain, so I hurt as well, but never mind that. Just stop, fucking stop please.” Vic begged him.

Anders turned around and stared at him.

Vic returned his stare, he was tired and annoyed by the conversation. His heart and head hurt and he wasn’t sure if Anders was going to push him again or worse. 

“Solona and I are not _playing_ ,” said Anders very quietly. “This stuff needs to be second-nature once we’re in Tevinter. You can’t do this, so she has to. It’s still going to be bloody hard on both Fenris and I, and we need you to play your part as well - without complaint. If we can stand this, then you will too.” He turned and snatched up the corset. “Solona will order me to spend the night with her. She and I have... things to talk about.” He strode swiftly from the room without looking back.

Invictus sat down on the bed and ran his fingers through his short hair in aggravation. He’d been worried about Anders and Fenris, how they would cope. He realized he was doing far worse than they were. Instead of joining the others, he stripped and stretched out in the bed, gaze on the ceiling until he heard Fenris slip into the room. He glanced over at the elf, but said nothing. 

Fenris came over and motioned for him to refresh the Silence spell on the room so they could speak. Once it was done, the elf stripped off everything but the collar and joined Invictus so he could speak quietly.

“What happened in here? Anders was furious when he returned.” Fenris asked with worry over how they were going to pull it off if they were all at odds with each other.

“I fucked up as usual. He got really angry with me, wanted me to see and count his scars so I got it. I don’t know how we’ll survive this love.” Vic said sullenly. He sighed and held Fenris closer. “Ignore what I said, I’m being stupid again. I didn’t listen and he got rightfully angry, I just wanted it to stop, to not be forced to see what he was saying with no room for doubt. I’m sorry, this whole thing is making me do the very things that will push you both away. I’m sorry love, I’m being an idiot again.”

Fenris frowned. “Anders hates his scars. What did you say to make him do that, Invictus?” The elf was troubled.

“I was a self absorbed idiot that’s what. I asked him for comfort and it was too much, he actually got angry and shoved me around. I just...just never mind. I’m going to play the idiot brother like my dear cousin commands and hope I can not blow our cover.” Invictus rolled to his stomach and started at the door sullenly. “I’m no good at being a magister, not even pretending. So maybe it’s a good thing we ran into her, because I can’t pretend that damn well. It’s just harder than I thought love and I fucked up trying to explain it to him. I’m wallowing as he said, so maybe you should go back to him, since I’m making a hash of it all.” 

Fenris sighed. “Love, this is very hard on both he and I. And I am not also trying to come to terms with dealing with someone I thought had betrayed me, as it seems this Solona did - particularly given she was supposed to be dead. He is in shock, Invictus, hurting and in pain, dealing with the demons of his own memories. He has little energy for anything else.” He shook his head. “He likely wishes he only had to pretend at being a magister. He would likely gladly be able to have only your problems instead of his own, love. Do not take his inability to comfort you personally; right now Anders is dealing with more than even I could know. I have only my past to confront here.”

“I’m going to do my best love. I just wish I could do better, and not make it worse for him or you. I’m trying, but this is pushing me back to ways neither of you need me to behave. Hopefully we can all come through this in one piece, even if it is brittle and ready to break with the slightest touch.” Vic rolled to his side so he could face Fenris. 

“We can’t call you Fenris once we’re there, I’m sure someone would recognize your name. Is it alright to call you Leto or do you wish another name?”

“Leto is... tolerable,” said Fenris slowly. “It is not who I am, but then nor am I this... black-haired Dalish creature Zevran has made of me. Let Leto be the name of this slave. It is as Fenris I shall return home after.”

“Very well, anything else you need love or should we rest while we have the chance?” Vic said quietly.

Fenris glanced towards the door to the other room as there was the sound of someone entering there and moving around. “Zevran,” he murmured, guessing. He glanced back to Invictus. “Wait here a moment.”

He rose to his feet and made his way to the adjoining door, opening it and glancing into the next room. There was a murmur of low voices, Fenris nodded, and answered something the Champion couldn’t quite make out. Then he closed the door and returned to the bed.

“We should rest; it seems we will be leaving at dawn,” said Fenris quietly.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders has a gentle touch, Tevinter is getting to all of them and the next few days can't pass quickly enough.

Fenris woke up before Invictus and slipped from the bed to wash up quickly and wake Zevran and the Champion. He wasn’t sure if the silence spell had held so he was quiet as could be as he moved around. He went into the other room and found Zevran sleeping alone.

He knelt down and shook him quickly to wake him. “We should not keep our Master or Mistress waiting. Where is Anders?”

“He stayed with Solona,” replied Zevran as he snapped awake.

“As he should, I will wake Master while you get ready.” Fenris said softly. “Remember that I am...Leto while we travel these lands, it is the name Master prefers.” the elf said as he rose and crossed back to the other room.

Hawke had come awake after he’d slipped from the bed, and was washing up when Fenris entered.

“Morning domne, I will fetch breakfast if it pleases you.” he said with a bow, eyes down and averted as he was trained.

“It would please me, be quick about it.” Invictus replied.

“As you command domne.” Fenris bowed and left to get them all breakfast, his mind blank as he awaited the innkeeper’s return. 

They gathered outside by the stables after a brief and silent breakfast. There was no sign of the two elf wardens that had accompanied Solona and Nathaniel. Anders looked weary and unrested as he stood silently behind Solona, his eyes upon the ground as befitted one of his station.

Solona had a beautiful dappled sorrel hunter, and she ordered Zevran to mount up behind her. Fenris was directed to mount double with Invictus, Anders on his own grey mare. Nathaniel took Zevran’s spirited black gelding, his own dun mare being used as their pack horse, its reins looped around the pommel of the black gelding’s saddle.

Zevran and Solona had put their heads together and come up with travelling robes for Anders that were appropriate for a slave but more comfortable for a day in the saddle than the corset.

No-one spoke as Nathaniel paid the innkeeper; they set off with Invictus and Solona riding in the lead, Anders just behind and Nathaniel bringing up the rear with the pack horse.

Invictus was silent, his gaze drifted between Solona, Zevran and Anders as they rode. He tried not to think of what lay ahead, until they had to play their parts in Tevinter proper.   
Fenris didn’t speak, a slave did not do so unless asked a question. He let his eyes drift closed while they were on the road but kept to his role.

Anders rode with his head down and shoulders slumped, his hands slack upon the reins as he guided the horse almost absently with his knees. The grey mare’s ears swivelled back frequently as they rode, picking up on the change in demeanor of her rider and evidently discomforted by it.

They rode on in strained silence until midday, and stopped for the horses to rest as well as their riders. Fenris served Invictus, without so much as a hint of who he really was. He rested on his knees, and ate quietly when allowed.

Anders and Nathaniel tended to the horses with assistance from Zevran, the mage working silently. As he was rubbing down his grey mare she turned and tugged at the sleeve of his robe until he paused to glance at her, and then she turned and butted his chest gently with her head.

As he ate Invictus let his hand rest on the back of the elf’s neck, his thumb stroked softly against the nape. 

Fenris closed his eyes briefly but didn’t give in to the pleased moan he wanted to let loose. Instead he waited to see if he was given an order.

“Make sure you eat Leto, we’ve got a long ride ahead to the city.” Vic said to him before he rose to find a bush and answer nature’s call.

“Yes master.” Fenris replied as he rummaged for a quick meal of dried meat and biscuits.

Anders didn’t look up as Invictus passed him, dropping his gaze instead to the horse as he went still. When Invictus had disappeared into the bushes he briefly hugged the horse then patted her before he returned to the task of rubbing her down before watering her then sitting on the ground near the horses to eat the ration of food Nathaniel handed him.

Invictus noticed Anders’ reaction but didn’t speak on it. Things were just going to be difficult until they were done passing through Tevinter. He walked by the blond mage without a word and went over to tend to the horse. He noted how Solona carried herself and mimicked it in an effort to pass for a spoiled magister.

Zevran glanced at him then drifted over, his eyes on the ground. “Let this one tend to your horse, master,” he said quietly.

“Stick with your mistress, I can do this.” Invictus said in a low growl. He wanted the time alone to think and get into the right mindset to pass any questions put to them. 

“Raven,” called Solona. “If my... brother... wishes to sully his hands with his own horse then leave him to it. Come and assist me.”

Zevran pulled away. “As my Mistress commands,” he murmured and obeyed.

Vic didn’t bother to look up at her as he worked on his horse, the motion of combing and brushing the animal soothed him until he felt ready to continue. “Sister…” he called conversationally, as if discussing the weather. “When we arrive in the city, shall I remain silent and let them think me simple or shall I give them my name, since the Champion is known in places besides Kirkwall.”

“Call yourself Aquilas,” replied Solona. “Let the hawk become an eagle.” She smiled a little. “Just as my Crow has become a Raven.” She glanced at Anders. “And our pet will be Aureas.”

Anders snorted but said nothing.

“Golden?” guessed Nathaniel. “Why not; he’s always being nicknamed Blondie after all.”

Invictus didn’t smile, he simply nodded and put away the grooming tools. Once he had mounted his horse, he called for Fenris to join him. As the group swung back out onto the road the look he gave Solona was frosty. “Do not refer to him as _our_ pet. He’s yours, clearly. Now we should be on our way, dear sister.”

Anders lifted his head and cast a hurt look at Invictus’ back, the rejection painful. He blinked, feeling his eyes start to sting, and dropped his head.

Fenris clenched his arms around Invictus tighter than he needed to and whispered to him. “Why do you do this Vic? He’s...not going to deal with it well.”

“Because I can’t abide calling him my pet in public. I’ll speak with him once we’ve settled for the night.” Vic murmured in response. “Now be quiet _Leto_ , we don’t know who’s listening.” 

Zevran darted them a sidelong glance then briefly looked back at Anders before leaning forward to whisper something in Solona’s ear. She shook her head with a small frown, then dug her heels into her mount’s flank to urge her mare on faster.

Fenris fell silent as they traveled on until they reached the city limits, a half hour before they reached the gates. His heart grew heavier as they went on, and when they saw the gates looming ahead, he whimpered. 

“Perivantium,” Solona announced as they approached the gates. “Remember your places.” She turned and murmured to Zevran who slid off the horse to walk beside her stirrup. She glanced at Fenris, keeping her gaze upon him until he did likewise, then drew herself up imperiously as the horses advanced at a walk.

The guards on the gate gave the two magisters and their retinue of slaves and manservant barely a second glance, waving them in boredly.

Fenris walked alongside Invictus’ horse, his gaze on the ground but his heart hammered in his chest as they made their way to an inn. 

Invictus followed, his expression tense as they found an inn that would have put anything he’d seen in his life to shame. Even by Ferelden standards, the building was opulent for a roadside stop.

“Leto, Raven, Nathaniel - tend to the horses. Come with me, pet,” said Solona as she clipped a fine gold chain to the ring on Anders’ collar; his eyes widened briefly before he lowered them. He followed silently, eyes on the ground. She led the way towards the inn, leaving the horses without a backwards glance.

Invictus went with her and watched her in action as she led Anders by the chain. He had to work not to snatch the chain from her hand but he held himself together.

Solona strode into the inn as though she owned the place, and from the subservient way the staff responded one could almost think she did. Within minutes she had arranged for rooms for the night, dinner and breakfast for the morning. She glanced at Invictus. “Come, Aquilas, I am tired from our ride.”

“Of course sister, lead on.” Invictus followed her to the room she would occupy with Nathaniel and Zevran. Once they were in the room, he let out a shaky breath. “If we could have a moment, sister? I would borrow Aureas for a short time.”

“I’m sure you would,” replied Solona as she dropped the leash. “Be sure to ward the room; I have no wish to hear your... _activities_ ,” she added, with a warning look. “Try not to wear him out this time, I have need of him later.”

Anders blushed, keeping his eyes on the floor as he followed Invictus.

The Champion sneered at her before he left for the adjoining room. He cast the strongest silence spell he could and sighed. “Fuck...I hate it here already.” He looked to Anders and waved tiredly. “I just want to explain earlier.”

Anders made his way over to a small stool near the cold fireplace and sat down, staring at his hands, the golden chain pooling in his lap.

“Please look at me.” Vic requested.

Anders lifted his eyes slowly, his face carefully schooled into a neutral expression.

Vic counted to three in his head then spoke. “I’m sorry about earlier, I just can’t call you pet. It’s not you, I just can’t do it. Her saying that just made me feel filthy, I care about you and I can’t pretend like that. So Solona gets to run the show, but I just can’t. I’m sorry love.”

“When you said I was... _her_ pet instead of ... I thought... maybe....” Anders dropped his eyes. “I thought you were trying to say you didn’t want me. At least - it’s what it felt like. That you were rejecting me.”

“I’m not, I just can’t play the role like that. Not like I need to. I’m not rejecting you, or Fenris. I’m just trying to hold it together so I don’t blow our cover. So when I say things like that, it’s not me turning you aside, it’s me staying in the moment. That’s all.” Invictus said tiredly. 

Anders nodded slowly, then drew a deep breath before lifting his eyes. “For my own sanity, I think I’m just going to have to treat this whole thing as a horrible dream when we aren’t somewhere like here, private, spelled so no-one can overhear.” His finger had strayed to the collar unconsciously as he spoke, tugging at it without realising.

“Do what you need, I figured you were done with me after I hurt you last night anyway. I just want to get out Tevinter before it drives me crazy.” Vic sighed.

“I don’t know what any of us are going to do when we get back home again, assuming we all make it,” said Anders quietly. “We’re barely into the edge of this city and yet... I can feel the magic all around, and it’s - it’s nothing like what I thought it would be. It’s... heavy, oppressive, wrong. The Chantry’s way is wrong but Tevinter’s is no better. They’re two extremes. Mages need a middle way.”

“More like we need to raze Tevinter to the fucking ground.” Vic muttered. He went over to Anders and lifted his chin so he was looking into his eyes. “Forgive me for being an idiot...again?”

Anders gave him a tremulous smile. “Still love me?” he asked quietly.

“Of course, even more for going through all this with me.” Vic responded before he leaned in and kissed him on the lips gently. Anders sighed and closed his eyes, leaning into the kiss.

Vic leaned his forehead against the other mage’s and sighed. “I’m going to hold you to being an arrogant, toppy bastard when we get home.”

Anders chuckled quietly before pulling back a little. He glanced over at the bed. “Do you think all three of us could fit in that bed?” he mused quietly.

“Maybe, what do you have in mind?” Vic asked him.

“I just would like all three of us to sleep in the same bed together,” said Anders quietly. “I.... didn’t sleep very well last night; talking to Solona was- well, let’s say it didn’t go well. I ended up perched on the edge of the bed the rest of the night and wishing I was anywhere else.”

“We’ll make it work, I’d rather not sleep alone again. Let’s get dinner out of the way then just stay in here. I’d rather not spend more time around Solona than need be, since I’m not really able to hold my tongue around her.” Invictus sighed as he rose and held his hand out for the chain. “This is getting pitched the second we are over the border too.”

Anders fingered the gold chain then reluctantly rose and handed the end to Invictus. “I hadn’t expected the leash,” he admitted. “I hate it. I hate it, this damned collar - I hate Tevinter.”

“We all do love, I’ll drop it as soon as we’re behind closed doors again.” Invictus led him next door swiftly and shut the door with a loud click, and dropped the chain as if it burned him. 

“How long until dinner? I’m eager for an early bedtime, sister.” Vic said as he motioned to ask about a silencing spell on the room. 

Solona looked up from the map she was consulting with Nathaniel; Zevran and Fenris had taken up position either side of the other door leading out of the suite of rooms. At a casual glance they could have been brothers. “We can have it sent up at any time,” she replied, and nodded to Nathaniel who left the room. Solona swiftly cast a powerful silencing spell about the room, then gestured to Fenris and Zevran to stand down.

Anders dropped into the nearest chair as he released the illusion spell he’d been holding on Fenris with a faint groan.

Invictus sat in a chair and leaned forward with a tired sigh. He massaged his temples as he grumbled about Tevinter and slavery.

Fenris came over and nudged Vic to sit back. “Let me.”

Zevran sauntered over to perch on the arm of Anders’ chair. The mage opened one eye to stare at him then closed his eyes again.

Fenris gave Invictus a firm massage to his temples while they sat there. “Tense love?” he asked softly.

“Yes, thank you for that it’s helping.” the Champion answered as he let his lover do as he pleased.

Zevran leaned over towards Anders a little. “Would you perhaps benefit from a similar touch?” he murmured.

“Right now I’ll settle for food and then sleep,” replied Anders. “And if the food doesn’t show soon then I may just skip straight to the sleep bit. You have no idea how exhausting it is keeping up a spell all day like that.”

“If I can help with it, tell me.” Vic murmured as he slumped further into the chair.

“Depends; how good are you with light spells? That’s basically all it is - a modified light spell. It’s just complicated, keeping the exact conformation straight and maintaining it all the time. You don’t fully realise how much it’s draining you until you drop it though. It’s not a lot of mana - but it’s constant concentration,” replied Anders. “If you’re used to keeping protection glyphs up for an extended period it helps.”

“You always were better at that than me,” said Solona.

“Yes, well, we can’t all bring dragons down with force cages, Solona. Some of us are just naturally better at the protection and healing side. I leave the mass carnage to you,” replied Anders tiredly.

“I’m more of a Force mage I’m afraid.” Invictus said as Fenris withdrew to sit on the arm of the chair. “Thank you love.”

“Just return the favor after dinner.” the elf said tiredly, his gaze drawn to the opening door and Nathaniel.

Dinner was a mostly silent affair, each preoccupied with their own thoughts as they ate. Zevran had to rescue Anders’ plate from his lap before it could spill as the blond mage nodded off almost mid-bite.

“Bed sooner than later for our favourite blond apostate, yes?” suggested the Antivan elf.

“I’m almost there with him.” Vic said with a yawn. “Join us when you’re ready love.” he said to Fenris before he helped Anders to his feet. 

“I’ll come with you, I don’t have much of an appetite. I take it one of you will knock in the morning?” he asked as he headed to the door.

“I shall wake you all,” nodded Zevran. “Sleep well, my friends.”

Anders raised a hand wearily in farewell before stumbling slightly. As they headed into the other room, he glanced at Invictus. “I guess you go in the middle?” He reached up to unclip the golden leash and let it drop to the floor, not caring where it fell.

“Sure, probably easier, unless Fenris wants the middle like at home?” he asked as he helped Anders lie down on the thick mattress.

“You in the middle, Anders against the wall so he doesn't roll off and I’ll take the side facing the door.” Fenris said as he tugged his clothes off except for the hated collar.

Anders shrugged off his outer robe and chucked it vaguely in the direction of the chair where he’d leaned his staff, not bothering to look and see if it reached it as he shifted over to the side of the bed. He lay down, one finger tugging at the collar absently as he tried to get himself comfortable.

“Stop tugging you’ll chafe your neck again.” Fenris mumbled.

“I can’t heal for shit, go to sleep.” Vic muttered as he felt them both curl against his sides in a bid to get comfortable.

“What?” said Anders drowsily. “Oh. Sorry.” He buried his face in the pillow as he flung an arm around Invictus’ waist, entwining his leg around the mage’s.

“Night you two.” Invictus breathed, the first to drop off for a change. Fenris followed him, his face drawn in a scowl as he dreamed of things better left unsaid.

Anders listened to the soft even breathing of his two lovers, and then sleep overcame him too, and he began to snore softly, the sound muffled by the soft pillows.

Invictus and Fenris were both woken in the small hours of the night as Anders began to toss fitfully, moaning as he clutched at the collar with both hands. They exchanged glances, then Invictus sat up, crouching over the mage so they could shift him into the middle of the bed; and then they lay either side of him, holding his hands and murmuring soothingly as they stroked his face and hair until he quietened again into restless sleep. The last thing they needed was the mage screaming the place down with a nightmare.

Invictus renewed the silence spell to be on the safe side before settling down to sleep next to the slumbering apostate, but the rest of the night passed without incident.

When Zevran woke them the next morning, Anders was confused and disoriented. He glanced down at where Invictus and Fenris both had hold of each of his hands, holding them firmly down by his sides and away from the collar. He blinked in bewilderment then glanced at Invictus.

“Did something happen last night?” he asked.

“You were thrashing and grabbing at the collar.” Fenris said from his side. 

“I don’t remember,” said Anders. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, holding your hands and moving you between us helped.” the elf said as he struggled out of bed. “Vic, silence please.”

“Sure.” the Champion threw up a Silencing spell and glanced to Zevran, then shut the door before speaking further. 

“I’ve not had a chance to talk to you, how are you doing with all this?” Invictus asked.

Zevran shrugged philosophically. “I manage,” he said simply. “I do not have the memories that Fenris has to deal with, or the past issues that Anders is wrestling with. Dealing with Solona is... well. It is what it is.”

Vic arched an eyebrow at him. “Very well, I just asked from concern.” he moved away to find his things and seek out a bathtub since he was too knackered the night before for a proper bath. “Do you know where the bathing chamber is?”

Zevran inclined his head slightly. “If Master will follow me,” he said as he turned to the door.

Invictus went with Raven to the baths, eager to be clean but more eager to be on their way.

Anders glanced to Fenris. “How are your muscles feeling?” he asked quietly. “Sore, I’m guessing? You’re not used to riding.”

“Yes, but I am used to discomfort, Aureas.” Fenris replied with Anders’ fake name and had not realized it.

Anders paused in the act of rising, then continued to sit up. “If you allow me to do something about it now, it will hurt less later,” he said quietly. “And then you’ll be less likely to be crippled if you need to defend the master and mistress. Leto.”

“Very well, do as you will.” the elf said quietly. 

Anders got up onto his knees. “Lie down,” he said quietly. “On your stomach. And try to relax.”

The elf gave him a look of concern before he did as asked, arms at his side and head turned so the collar wouldn’t choke him. “You realize it will seem as if you are taking his pet for a ride should anyone enter.” he murmured quietly in Trade.

“Hardly,” said Anders. “This may feel uncomfortable at first, but try not to tense up too much.” He called up a little grease in the palm of his hand before he started to work on massaging the elf’s legs, beginning with his feet before working his way up to the knotted calves. His fingers were firm as they worked the kinks and tension out of Fenris’ calves, smoothing between the lyrium lines after each stroke, hands warm and sure. He shifted a little, resting his weight upon his heels as he knelt between Fenris’ legs, working firmly on the muscles around the back of the elf’s knees, careful of the branching swirls of lyrium in the skin.

“How does that feel?” he asked as he moved on to work on Fenris’ left thigh.

A low moan was Fenris’ answer. His fingers clenched the bedding as Anders worked and his eyes closed as the mage made him feel better than he had in weeks.

Anders’ fingers flexed into Fenris’ thigh, fingertips unerringly seeking out and finding each painful knot and tense muscle, working steadily at each one until it released then smoothing it gently, trailing a light touch of healing magic as he soothed the residual lingering ache. Then he turned to Fenris’ right thigh and did the same before finally starting to work on Fenris’ buttocks and lower back.

The door opened some time later as Anders was working the kinks out of Fenris’ upper back; Anders was too intent upon his work to notice.

Fenris gasped as Anders found a hard knot of muscle in his shoulder; the hiss dissolved to a throaty purr of pleasure as the mage got it to loosen.

“I thought he was about to come from the noises he’s been making.” Invictus said quietly. 

Anders jumped, his head whipping round in alarm. “H-he needed - it’ll keep his muscles flexible in case of threat -” stammered Anders.

“Go on, he needs it. I’m just a tad bit jealous of the noises he’s making is all.” Vic laughed then leaned in to kiss Anders on the temple. “Continue the good work, I’ll send Raven in with breakfast since I don’t think Leto will be moving any time soon.”

“Feels so good.” slurred the elf as he looked at Invictus with a content look.

Anders placed his palms against the small of Fenris’ back then let a slow rippling wave of healing energy spread out from his hands through the elf’s body until it pulsed all through every limb, all along his spine and right up over his skin to the very tips of his ears then let the magic die away gently; and then the mage sat back and glanced to Invictus.

“Does my master wish me to ease his pains?” he asked quietly, his pupils still dark from the backwash he’d felt as Fenris’ lyrium brands had fed back into his magic.

“Yes, he would love that.” Invictus breathed softly. He leaned over Fenris to see if the elf was alright. “Leto, can you move?”

“No master, this one has been been laid low by Aureas’ skilled hands. Forgive me.” Fenris slurred as he looked at Invictus.

The dark-skinned mage knelt down and kissed him on the cheek. “Glad you feel good love. Just rest for a bit then get washed up and have breakfast. I’ll see you in Solona’s rooms.” Vic whispered in his ear.

“Yes domne.” Fenris rasped in reply. 

Invictus tilted his head towards the other bed and smiled. “Very good boy, pleasing us both first thing in the morning.” his eyes were dark as he slipped a finger into the hoop in Anders’ collar and tugged him close enough to kiss. “I will make sure to reward you later, pet.”

Anders allowed himself to be drawn across the room to the other bed. “As my master wishes,” he murmured quietly.

He was as diligent and thorough with Invictus as he’d been with Fenris, and soon the dark mage’s groans of pleasure were audible as Anders bent over his work, alternating the firm flexing of his fingers with smooth strokes and pulses of healing magic, beginning with Invictus’ feet before working up his calves, knees, thighs and then working up his back before finishing with a strong wave of healing magic from his warm palms braced against the small of Invictus’ spine before Anders slumped slightly, tired and a little drained.

Vic turned over and pulled Anders to his chest. “You deserve a reward, what would you like pet?” Vic said softly for them to hear, in case anyone heard them. He nuzzled at the blond mage’s neck, worried his earlobe for a while as he laid there with Anders on top of him.

Fenris finally peeled himself from the bed and cleaned up before Zevran returned to the room to see what had occupied them. He pulled the sheets from the bed and hustled the other elf into the other room before he spoke.

“Just a pleasant distraction from routine, brother. Aureas is serving Master, you wouldn’t want to disturb them, would you?” Fenris asked him as he bustled around the room to tidy it and drop the sheets off in a basket on their way out. 

Zevran raised one eyebrow, then smirked slightly. “We wouldn’t want that, though the Mistress might,” observed the other elf. “Though what Mistress doesn’t know can’t harm, hmm?”

“True enough. I forget what talented hands Aureas has at times, he provided a very, very pleasant start to my day.” Fenris purred in his ear.

“Then today’s ride should go much more smoothly,” nodded Zevran. “A pity there is no-one to do the same for Aureas, no?” His lips quirked up in a smirk.

“I could do so, my talents honed for Master are many dear Raven.” Fenris finished getting ready and motioned for Zevran to head out. “We should not eavesdrop on Master and his pet, he instructed me to eat and be ready once he’s been tended to.” 

“We must make sure Aureas eats properly also,” murmured Zevran with a last glance back at the closed door. “He has not eaten well recently.”

“It will be done.” Fenris arched an eyebrow then inclined his head towards the door again, a tiny smile on his face at the pleasurable sounds that filtered from the other room.

When the two elves returned with breakfast for Invictus and Anders, the blond apostate was slumbering lightly, and Invictus had a very smug look on his face. Zevran arched an eyebrow at the dark mage and grinned but said nothing as he began to lay out breakfast dishes on a nearby low table.

“Thank you Raven.” Vic said before he murmured to his lover. “Wake up, breakfast has been served pet.” He gestured and a Silence spell cloaked the room once more. “I fucking hate Tevinter.” 

Anders blinked drowsily and lifted his head. “Oh, food,” he said. He sat up and sighed, brushing his hair back over his shoulder as Zevran held a plate out to him.

“You will eat,” said the elf sternly.

“Yes, you will Anders.” Invictus echoed as he rose to dress.

The blond apostate took the fork Zevran handed him then poked tentatively at the unfamiliar food. “What is this?” he asked.

“Some form of spiced grains with meat,” replied Zevran as he sat down on the rug with his own plate. “It appears to be what passes for breakfast here.”

“People don’t have such heavy meals as in Ferelden.” Fenris said as he sat next to Invictus and sipped his tea. 

“It’s not bad - I could get to like this, I think,” said Anders as he started to eat.

“It’s tolerable, but I’ve gotten used to the heartier meals in Ferelden.” Fenris replied quietly before he tucked into his own meal.

“It’ll do, but I’d rather have a plate of potatoes, eggs and sausages any day.” Vic mumbled.

Zevran shrugged; food was food, his belly was empty and he wasn’t going to complain. From the way Anders was tucking in, he seemed to feel similarly, and at least the apostate was actually eating with some sign of appetite for once.

“How long until we are done with this city?” Fenris asked as he put his empty plate aside. He was tired and ready to be done with Tevinter.

“Solona says we are riding straight through. We will pause maybe briefly in the market for Nathaniel to get extra supplies, but then on as fast as we can,” said Zevran.

“How many days is that? One, three? I want to burn this collar and get this dye out of my hair as soon as we cross out of this place.” Fenris muttered.

“I think the dye has to grow out love.” Vic said as he carded his fingers through the darkened strands.

“It will take a day to cross Perivantium; we should reach the east gates by sundown,” said Zevran. “From there, another three days to the crossroads, and then we head straight north beside the river.”

“So four more days in this hated role.” the elven warrior sighed. “The second I can stop playing at this, I am going to get drunk and burn this place out of my mind.”

“I’ll be right besides you on that love.” Vic leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. 

“The sooner we finish breakfast the sooner we’ll be on our way,” shrugged Anders.

“Then let’s get a move on.” Vic said with a final brief kiss to Fenris’ cheek. 

“Agreed.” said the elven warrior. Fenris stretched as he rose, a low sigh of happiness at how fewer pops and cracks there were as he moved.

The horses were saddled, ready and waiting as they all convened in the inner courtyard of the inn. Solona nodded coolly to Invictus as she emerged with Nathaniel. 

“As before,” she said. “Raven, by my stirrup. Aureas, I understand you have earned the right to ride this morning; I am most pleased.” 

The stablehands glanced at her then backed away as Anders was unclipped from the golden leash and made his way over to the grey mare.

Invictus nodded towards Fenris. “Leto, ride with me.” 

“Yes domne.” the elf said then mounted behind Invictus.

Solona shot Invictus a sharp look, then spurred her horse into a walk towards the gate into the street, Zevran trotting alongside, his gaze alert as he scanned the street.

Invictus rolled his eyes at her but whispered to Fenris to get down so they wouldn’t attract attention. 

Fenris slipped down and walked besides Vic quietly, his demeanor that of perfect submission.

Anders swung his mare into line behind Invictus and Solona, Nathaniel beside him leading the packhorse. 

Solona set a steady pace that both elves would be able to keep up with easily; the streets were beginning to grow busy, servants on errands or fetching groceries before the heat of the day would make the streets too dusty for any but unfortunate slaves obliged to brave the heat. They rode on steadily through the morning as the sun rose high overhead, taking shelter for a while in the hottest part of the day in another inn where their horses were watered, and the two elves and Anders were allowed to take a light meal in the courtyard beneath a shady tree while Solona, Invictus and Nathaniel dined in the inn’s commonroom.

Then they pushed on in the early afternoon, and this set the pattern for their travels. They would set out early each day, resting through the worst of the midday heat before pushing on until well into the cool of the evening. In the towns and cities, they kept up the pretence of magisters and slaves, but between the towns they took to the horses, Zevran and Fenris doubling up with the three mages, Anders often riding up alongside Invictus as Nathaniel and Solona rode on ahead.

They left the Imperial Highway shortly after they passed the crossroads to follow the river north, riding upon the east bank as they headed up towards the port of Vyrantium, the city’s walls rising into view on the third day after leaving the highway.

“There she lies: Vyrantium. We have perhaps one or two days more of this pretence and then we can cast away these slave collars for good.” Solona smiled down at Zevran as he rested a hand on her stirrup, shading his eyes with a hand as he stared. He glanced up at her.

“We?” he echoed. “Strange, I see only three of us burdened with these hateful things.” He held her gaze for a moment longer then turned away as Solona flushed an ugly pink.

Fenris wanted to smirk but hid it with a cough behind his hand. “We should move on.” he said quietly.

“Yes, so that we can drop these personas sooner than later.” Vic agreed quietly. “Lead on, sister.” he said with a grin.

She turned and gave him a glare, but then turned away. “Just for that you can walk,” she snapped to Zevran as she spurred her horse on.

“As my Mistress wishes,” said Zevran, bowing mockingly towards her back.

“Trouble in Paradise?” murmured Nathaniel.

“When is there not?” shrugged Zevran as he began to trudge after Solona.

“Wouldn’t we go faster if they rode with us? Raven can double up with Aureas, and Leto can ride with me. I’d like to get to the city before dark, unless of course you like walking slower than an old magister with gout, dear sister of mine.” Vic smiled at her, and enjoyed needling her when he could.

Solona reined in her horse and glared at Invictus. “Fine,” she snapped. “Aureas spends the night with me however.”

Anders frowned slightly. “Wait, what-” he began, but she had already turned her mount and spurred it on.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into Solona, but the sooner we all drop this pretense the better,” he muttered as he held down an arm to help Zevran up onto the back of his mare. “I think pretending to be a magistra has started to go to her head.”

Invictus frowned at her as she rode off. “Bugger me dry and punch me in the face. The shine on my cousin’s image is really fading the longer I spend with her.” he muttered. 

Fenris coughed and held his arm out for Vic to help him up. “If serah would be so kind?”

“What, oh yes.” Invictus pulled the elven warrior up with him and set his horse off at a trot. 

“Mind yourself Vic, she’s not to be trifled with.” Fenris said.

“She doesn’t scare me, and I don’t care for how she’s using Anders to get at me.” Vic said before he kicked the horse to go faster. 

Anders frowned as Invictus’ gelding picked up its pace. “Oh great, just what we all need - those two having a fight right outside Vyrantium and attracting the attention of anyone else on the road,” he groaned. “Nathaniel, we’d best get after them!”

“I’m with you,” agreed Nathaniel as he urged the black gelding on. Anders’ grey mare soon outpaced it and drew level with Invictus.

Anders glanced around; the road was empty here, but there were people on the road up ahead. He leaned out of his saddle towards Fenris.

“This is madness!” he called over to him, his voice just pitched to carry over the sound of the horse’s hooves. “They’re going to attract attention!”

“I know, I know.” the elf called back. He tightened his hands around Vic’s middle and spoke in his ear. 

“Vic, stop this. Argue once we are in town and behind closed doors.” he said as loud as he dared.

Anders put his heels to the flanks of the grey mare and urged her faster; she willingly obeyed, her slender long legs carrying her on and she overtook Invictus’ chestnut gelding, galloping on after Solona. Anders prayed silently to whatever deities were listening that he could catch up to the Warden before they reached the other travellers up ahead. He could feel Zevran clutching tightly around his waist, holding on for dear life as the road sped away beneath their feet.

“Mistress!” called Anders, and was thankful when she reined in her mare and glanced back.

“Mistress, it is not safe to ride so far ahead alone,” he said quietly as he drew level with her, reining in. She glanced back at the others, then inclined her head slightly.

“Ride alongside me then, Aureas,” she replied, and turned back towards the road.

Invictus caught up with them eventually and trotted behind his ‘sister’ as they made their way towards the city.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A familiar face from Fenris' past, Anders finds that siblings can be a real pain in the back, and Fenris discovers he is not the only one.

[Lyrium warrior](http://arkadyrose.deviantart.com/art/Lyrium-warrior-445393058) by [ArkadyRose](http://arkadyrose.deviantart.com/) on [deviantART](http://www.deviantart.com)  


In retrospect, everything had been going too smoothly, Invictus would later come to reflect. Though masquerading as slaves had been uncomfortable for Anders and the two elves, reawakening old memories and hurts that had been buried for years and causing upset and distress between them all, the deception had paid off and their passage through Tevinter had gone untroubled.

Perhaps that was why they had let down their guards a little too easily upon reaching the inn in Vyrantium where they were to stay for a couple of days whilst Solona arranged passage for Seheron.

Anders and Zevran had stayed in the stables to tend to the horses, and it was perhaps an hour later that it occurred to Invictus that neither had returned.

“I will be back shortly, it’s been a long time since they left. Stay here Leto,” Invictus said before he headed down to the stables.

All seemed quiet. There was no sign of either the blond apostate or the black-haired elf as the mage walked uneasily down the centre aisle of the stables between the ranks of stalls. As he reached the end of the row, near their own horses, he was about to turn and leave when something caught his eye - a splash of red upon the stone floor. He glanced towards the half-open door of the nearest stall, and saw a limp hand lying upon the ground, its owner hidden by the wall of the stall. 

As he drew closer with the uneasy feeling rising in his chest, he saw it was Zevran, sprawled upon his back with one hand flung above his head, his face turned away. The straw upon which he lay was dark and sodden with blood.

“Venhedis, what happened here?” Vic exclaimed.

Zevran stirred weakly, his hand twitching upon the hard stone. As the dark mage crouched down next to the elf Zevran opened his eyes, focusing on Invictus with difficulty. This close, Invictus could see Zevran had been wounded grievously, stab wounds to his chest and slashes along his arms mute testimony to the fight he had put up before being overwhelmed by sheer force of numbers. A slash across his forehead had bled into his eyes, the blood pooling beneath his cheek as he lay upon the straw; and as the elf struggled to turn his head the movement revealed an ugly cut across Zevran’s throat that had somehow miraculously missed the arteries. The movement caused fresh dark blood to well up in the cut as Zevran tried to speak.

“Anders... they took... tried to stop them....”

“It was the red-haired magistra,” said a small frightened voice from the shadows further back in the stall. As Invictus whirled with an ice spell at the ready, a young stable boy shifted forward a little, his wide eyes dark and scared. “She came with men and ordered the blond one to go with her. When he wouldn’t, she... she... she hurt him, and the elf.” The boy looked at Zevran with something akin to awe. “I never seen anyone fight like he did before, but there were too many of them, and they took the blond one away with her, carrying him. I hid in the straw.” The boy sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand as he stared at Invictus warily. “Please don’t be angry with this lowly slave Master!”

“It’s alright, run back to your post,” Invictus said as he laid a palm over the elven assassin’s throat to heal the wound, enough so he could get back to their room. He closed his eyes and concentrated on healing Zevran.

The boy fled with a grateful look. Zevran closed his eyes and drew a shuddering breath as the healing magic began to draw together the edges of the ghastly wound, the bleeding slowing and then finally stopping as the skin began to knit together.

“Can you walk? We need to get the others and figure out what’s going on here.” Vic asked.

Zevran shook his head weakly. “Get Nathaniel and Leto,” he said hoarsely. 

"I'm not leaving you here so they can come back and finish this." Invictus picked Zevran up and hurried back to their rooms.

Zevran bit his lip to keep from crying out as Invictus hefted him into his arms. They drew curious and alarmed looks from several of the inn’s guests as the dark-skinned magister ran through the common room towards the stairs bearing the bleeding body of his elven slave; the landlord sprang forward with a cry of protest as Zevran’s blood left a trail upon the rich blue carpet.

"Out if my way if you value your hide. He's worth more than you," Invictus snarled at the innkeeper. The man recoiled with a look of shock, and the Champion was able to continue up the stairs unhindered, leaving a trail of dark red splotches upon the floor in his wake. Zevran was limp in his arms, the elf’s skin alarmingly pale beneath the dusky tan.

Solona, Nathaniel and Fenris looked up in alarm as he burst through the door then kicked it shut behind him.

"What happened? Where is Aureas?" Fenris said as he watched Invictus lay Zevran down.

"A red-headed magistra attacked them." Vic gestured for Solona to cast a Silencing spell as he pulled several healing potions out and sat them next to Zevran.

She cast the spell hastily and then threw herself down upon her knees next to the unconscious elf. “No... _mi Amatus_... please, open your eyes,” she begged him, her composure gone as she reached a trembling hand to gently stroke the side of his face. 

"Can you heal? If so, he needs it," Vic said tersely as he closed his eyes to work on the fallen elf.

Fenris had sunk to his knees close by, his own expression dazed.

“Not anywhere near as well as Anders,” she replied bitterly as she laid her hands over the worst of the chest wounds and concentrated, frowning as she called up her magic. “Maker, this is bad.”

“Who could this magistra be? Red hair... that’s pretty unusual in Tevinter. She must stand out, surely?” said Nathaniel. Solona hissed at him to be silent as she concentrated on the task at hand. 

The Grey Warden tugged Invictus up and away from the others. “A red-haired magistra dragging off a blond Ferelden mage slave would have drawn attention. I’ll go nose around on the street and see what I can find out,” he said with a glance back at the others.

"Take Fenris, I'll see what I can do here," Vic muttered as he nodded then returned to Zevran’s side to take up a position opposite Solona and continued to heal the mortally-wounded elf, his own meagre healing abilities augmenting hers.

Fenris had taken one of Zevran’s limp hands in his and was staring intently into the unconscious Antivan’s face; as Nathaniel laid a hand on his shoulder, he shrugged him off distractedly.

“Fenris,” said Nathaniel patiently. “There’s nothing we can do here.”

"No, I will not leave him," the elf said as he drew away from the archer’s touch.

Invictus shook his head and indicated that Nathaniel should just go.

The Grey Warden nodded silently. Buckling his sword on, he left swiftly; the others paid his exit no heed, all eyes instead upon Zevran as the two mages worked on him.

Time seemed to have no meaning as Invictus and Solona fought to bring Zevran back from the brink of death; Fenris had no idea how long he had knelt there before he thought he felt Zevran's fingers twitch.

Then the other elf squeezed his hand weakly and opened his eyes.

"Hi," Fenris whispered.

"Thank the Maker," Invictus huffed before he sat back on his heels. "Lyrium potion, do you have one?" he asked Solona.

She sat back wearily and nodded, pulling a couple of glowing blue vials from a pouch on her belt. She handed him one as she uncorked the other then knocked back the contents.

Zevran gave Fenris a faint smile. “Death will not have me just yet, _carissimi_ ,” he said softly as his eyes closed once more and he slipped into a deep sleep.

“What did he just call you?” exclaimed Solona sharply, fixing Fenris with a stare.

“You heard him,” Fenris replied without looking at her.

Solona’s fingers curled into Zevran’s tunic as she crouched over the sleeping elf, her eyes narrowing. “I see.”

“I will not fight you over him, and you should not dig into him so soon after he nearly expired.” Fenris kissed the other elf softly on the forehead and pulled back. 

“Let me get him washed up and into bed. Solona, stop glaring at Fenris and get some flannels, soap and tincture from my pack. Once he wakes up, he’ll need some of these potions,” Invictus said wearily.

Nathaniel returned shortly after they’d cleaned up Zevran and gotten him into bed, the Antivan elf sleeping through their ministrations.

“Well, they certainly weren’t trying to hide what they were doing,” said Nathaniel as he closed the door behind him. “Quite a few people were gossipping about it. Seems this mysterious magistra must have spotted us soon after we entered the city and followed us here, biding her time until Anders and Zevran were alone. From what I can make out, they took Anders down first with a throwing knife to the back - it seems it must have been tainted with magebane, because he went down hard and fast with no attempt to use his magic. Zevran put up a fight but the magistra had far too many men with her.”

“Do you know where they took Anders?” asked Solona, looking up from where she sat upon the bed, cradling one of Zevran’s hands between both her own.

“Yes, I was able to follow as far as the main marketplace, where everyone was talking about the elf magistra and her unconscious blond slave. She -”

“Elf?” exclaimed Fenris as he turned and stared at Nathaniel. “You are certain she was an elf?”

“That’s the word on the street,” replied Nathaniel. “A red-haired elf magistra. There can’t be many of those around in Tevinter.”

“Varania,” said Fenris tightly, his fists clenched.

“You know her?” asked Solona.

“My... sister,” said Fenris softly. “She did it, she became a magistra, even with Danarius dead. She must have seen Anders in Kirkwall or she saw me and…” the elven fighter’s voice trailed off as he bolted to the mirror and stared at himself. “I must have looked like this before the markings, that’s …” 

“Love, what are you talking about?” Invictus asked as he came over to his lover.

“Before the markings, I must have had dark hair. I probably look like Leto, the brother she remembers. Or she simply wanted a healer slave mage. Which means she’s even worse than I’d thought. She sold me out for power and got it.” Fenris said slowly as he looked in the mirror then back to the others. “Even if all of Tevinter realizes I’ve returned, I have to get Anders from her.”

“We can’t just go tearing down the street, but if you need to use your powers to save him, concealment be damned.” Vic came over and tipped his head up so he could look Fenris in the eye.

“Will you be able to kill her if need be?” the Champion asked softly.

“I think so, we’ll know when the time comes. Who will stay with Zevran? He’s too weak to be left alone.” Fenris responded.

“Anders’ spell is starting to wear off,” remarked Nathaniel. “I can sort of see a glow around the edges of some of your markings.”

“Fenris, you need to calm down,” said Solona quietly.

The elf turned and glared at her. “No, you will stop ordering me starting right now. With Anders taken, the glamour will not last anyway. Do not think that my disguise fading away will stop me from making the road run red to get him back.” 

“I am not being the magistra, only stating a fact,” said Solona coolly. “Set one foot outside that door looking like that and you’ll have every magister for streets around fighting to claim you. Have you any idea how much that lyrium _sings_ in the head of every mage in sight when you light up like that? I could point straight at you with my eyes closed right now, and you can be damned certain that other mages will be wondering where all this power could be. You need to calm down _right now_.”

Fenris started to get in her face, but Invictus grabbed him around the waist and held him back. “Love, we will get him back. As much as I hate to admit it she’s right. You’re even getting to me and I’m used to being around you for years. Please just, calm yourself before we go to get him back. Nathaniel knows where they took him, but someone has to stay with Zevran.”

“Invictus, let go.” Fenris hissed as he let his brands dim before he glared at the Hero. “Stay with him, since Vic is the better offensive mage and I can trust him at my back. Warden Howe, if you would come with us, I would be grateful.” 

Solona arranged her skirts and sat upon the edge of the bed, reaching for Zevran’s hand before glancing back at Invictus. “Please bring Anders back safely. And punish this bitch for stealing him,” she added savagely.

“Easy, Solona,” murmured Nathaniel as he slung his quiver of arrows on his back and hefted his bow. He turned to the mage and elf. “Gentlemen? I believe we have an apostate to rescue.”

Invictus released his lover, but not without comment. “That was low love, no need to pour salt in the wound.” 

“Be glad that’s all I said.” Fenris snarled as he strapped his sword on, not one care if someone had a word for a slave carrying a weapon.

“Lead on Nathaniel.” Vic said with one last glance at his cousin, who seemed more like a very tired woman than the fearless mage that stopped a Blight.

“Ward the room, Solona. We’ll be back as fast as possible,” said Nathaniel. She seemed not to hear him, her gaze on Zevran’s face as she tenderly brushed an errant lock of black hair away from the elf’s sleeping eyes.

Fenris’ expression was grim as they followed Nathaniel to the warehouse he’d heard she’d taken him to. He looked to Invictus with sadness before he looked to the warden. “Break in and take him by force, or try stealth?”

Nathaniel glanced up and down the street then up at the building. “What I don’t understand is why she’d take him here? She’s a magistra. She could take him to an inn or an estate or anything - why here? This looks like somewhere you’d try to hide something - or someone - and yet she made no attempt to hide what she’d done or where she was going.”

“Maybe she’s desperate?” Vic said quietly. “So nice and easy, or go in with weapons drawn?” 

“If we don’t make up our minds, I’m going in to rip her heart out like I should have back in Kirkwall.” Fenris muttered.

“Let’s circle round and see if I can find us a nice quiet back entrance,” suggested Nathaniel. “Or make one.” He grinned. “I want to know what she had hiding here that was so important she dashed straight here with a stolen healer instead of fleeing the city or holing up somewhere appropriate to her station.”

“Get moving.” Fenris snapped as he grew more impatient the longer they stayed there.

“Easy love, don’t want to let her know we’re here and make her bolt.” Vic whispered to him.

**

He was lying on something soft and his back was on fire. Anders groaned faintly as he opened his eyes, feeling sick, dizzy and confused.

He had been placed on what felt like a pile of blankets, a soft pillow beneath his head; shifting his head a little he felt familiar worn embroidery and realised they must have taken his mother’s pillow from his pack and laid it beneath him. He turned his face a little into it and inhaled, the faint aroma of herbs and mountain meadow flowers that clung to it comforting.

He tried to reach for his magic but it stirred only sluggishly, the magebane still in his system inhibiting it even as it made him feel queasy and disoriented.

The pain in his back was radiating out from the stab wound in his left shoulder. Someone appeared to have dressed it whilst he was unconscious; he could feel bandages wrapped around his torso and shoulder, cool air whispering over his bare flesh between the bands of soft linen. His arms lay by his side; he was unbound.

Whoever had taken him, they evidently planned on treating him reasonably well, even if they didn’t trust him with his magic. 

He let his eyes rove around as far as he could see without actually lifting his head. he appeared to be inside a dusty warehouse, which seemed an unlikely place for a magistra to take a stolen slave - particularly a magistra like this one who had swooped down upon him and Zevran in broad daylight and carried him off in front of a whole street of witnesses. She hadn’t exactly been taking the subtle approach.

Zevran. What had happened to Zevran? When last the blond apostate had seen him, the Antivan elf had been sprawled in a pool of his own blood, felled by sheer force of numbers. He didn’t know if he was alive or dead.

He must have made an incautious movement because pain suddenly flared in his shoulder and he gasped involuntarily. A moment later, a pair of small bare feet stepped into his line of sight and then the red-haired magistra was crouching down and peering at him.

“Are you in pain?” she asked softly in Tevene. Not waiting for an answer, she laid a hand lightly over the dressing on his shoulder and a comforting warmth sank into the wound. Her magic felt strange and alien to him, different from his own; the wound tingled even as the pain dissipated a little.

“I am not skilled with healing but I can, at least, relieve pain; for a little while, until the magebane wears off and you can heal yourself,” she said quietly.

Anders frowned. She wasn’t behaving at all the way he would have expected a magistra to behave. And there was something almost familiar about her; something about her green eyes that regarded him piercingly. He held his tongue however.

The magistra glanced up. “Help him to his feet,” she told someone he couldn’t see as she rose to her own feet and dusted off her skirts. Anders was lifted firmly yet gently, the two men careful of his injured shoulder. Anders instinctively cradled his left arm with his right to relieve the weight of his arm upon the injured joint as she turned away and the man to his right guided him to follow with a hand on his arm.

The magistra led him over to a shadowy corner. “You’re no doubt wondering why I took you and what I’m going to do with you,” she called back over her shoulder to him. “Do not fear; you will come to no harm if you do as you are told.”

“What... what does my... mistress require of me?” asked Anders slowly.

She glanced back at him and smiled a little. “You may wear a slave’s collar but it sits poorly on you. You’ve not worn it long, have you?”

“N-no. Mistress,” he added hastily.

“I thought as much. You’re... Ferelden?”

“Yes,” he lied; it was easier than explaining the truth. “Mistress,” he added again belatedly.

“Don’t worry, you’ll find I am not a harsh mistress and can be quite forgiving. Aureas, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, Mistress,” answered Anders. A movement in the shadows drew his eye.

The magistra glanced over towards the movement. “This is why I took you. I need you to heal him. I was apprenticed to a powerful magister who alas was murdered some time ago. I returned alone to claim his estate and found he had left certain... experiments unfinished. This poor wretch was the only one that survived his master’s demise.”

She turned and held out a hand towards the figure in the shadows. “It’s alright,” she said softly. “It’s me. I’ve brought a friend for you; he’s going to help you.” She gave Anders a distracted smile. “He’s shy. He has been in a lot of pain.”

The figure stepped closer, and Anders’ eyes widened as the light fell upon raised scar tissue, deep incisions that had healed into ugly raised flesh that swirled around the muscles and wound across the torso all down the left side of the figure’s body. And then the figure lifted its head and turned to face Anders.

Someone had tried to reproduce Fenris’ lyrium brands... but only upon half the man’s body. Silvery lines and loops of lyrium swirled over the right-hand side of his body but the left side was a scarred ruin. As the elf - for elf it was, with long hair that fell halfway to his waist, half white, half blood-red - stared at Anders, the blond apostate shuddered at the empty, blank look in the pale blue eyes that seemed to stare through him.

“Who was his master?” Anders managed to ask.

“Danarius,” replied the magistra.

**

Fenris crept silently along behind Nathaniel until the rogue indicated he should hold his movements. He nodded then turned to indicate that Invictus should stop as well.

“Any sign of Anders?” Vic asked quietly.

“I hear voices up ahead, and one of them is him, I’m certain of it,” replied the rogue softly.

“Then let’s get him back.” Fenris hissed.

“Not so fast,” said Nathaniel. “Let’s get a little closer. There’s someone or something in the shadows near him....”

Fenris felt it first; a strange singing sensation all through the lyrium in his body, a moment before suddenly bright silver light erupted from the shadows up ahead.

“No…” the elf breathed as he stopped in his tracks. “Another, he made another.” Fenris muttered.

“Another?” Invictus asked softly.

There was a loud, almost inhuman cry of agony and then the bright light abruptly went out.

“Another like me, and that agony in its cry. We must hurry.” Fenris said as he hurried towards the noise.

As they emerged from behind the pile of crates, they could see a figure that must be Anders, on his knees and reaching out for someone who was curled in a ball on the ground. Anders was clad only in his grey pants, white bandages swathing his torso and left shoulder. He threw his loose blond hair back over his shoulder as he reached out his right hand to touch the figure on the ground, who cried out again and flinched.

Varania stood nearby, a stricken, worried look on her face as she spoke to Anders. “Please say you can heal him?” she was begging him.

“I don’t know, this is....” Anders’ voice was filled with horror and pity. He glanced back over his shoulder as Invictus, Fenris and Nathaniel suddenly emerged from behind the pile of crates; the two armed men either side of him turned and drew swords.

“Move away from that thing.” Fenris hissed before he turned to face his sister. “You, you took him to heal that...thing Danarius created!” he said in a low, pained voice.

“Family reunion later, men with swords right now love.” Vic said as he let fire and ice slam into the armed guards.

Anders recoiled away from the spells as the two men staggered and screamed, almost falling into him.

“Stop, stop!” cried Varania. “Leto, make him stop, please!”

“Leto is dead.” Fenris screamed before he whirled to take the head of a man that had foolishly charged at him.

“Stop it, stand down, all of you!” cried Varania, a stronger note of authority in her voice as she gestured to the rest of her men to back away even as she hurried over to the figure curled up in a ball on the ground. “Enough! You’ve all seen what _he_ can do - Leto is what he was meant to have been, you cannot stand against him!”

The men darted glances at each other then down at the figure huddled in a ball then backed away from Fenris warily.

“Kill it, put that thing out of its misery. Then I will kill you as I should have in Kirkwall,” Fenris snarled as he circled over to Anders. “Come with me, get away from that.”

Vic cast a Glyph of Paralysis at Varania’s feet so she would not attack. “Anders, come here.”

Varania dispelled his glyph with a sneer. “You think I don’t know your spells, Hawke? I remember you. I was but a mere apprentice when last we met but not so now! I will not let you take him!”

“I have to help him,” said Anders as he turned and reached for the figure again. “I can help, I can-”

“You cannot and you will not.” Fenris said as he pulled Anders to his feet.

“You think yourself so smart.” Vic sneered in return before he cast Crushing Prison on her. “Get out of that.”

“Let go of me!” shouted Anders, wincing as Fenris’ hand upon his arm made his shoulder flare painfully; he instinctively shoved the elf back with his good hand as he stepped back.

Varania shouted something in rapid-fire Ancient Tevene and the huddled figure at her feet suddenly staggered upright. Fenris’ eyes were drawn to the scars all over the male elf’s bare torso and arms; one half of him was almost a mirror of Fenris, but the other half looked as though the lyrium had been ripped free of his flesh, leaving ragged scars in a horrible mockery of the delicate swirls of lyrium. The creature reached one hand back to grasp his mistress’ wrist whilst the other hand gripped Anders upon the right arm as the lyrium lines began to glow, the elf’s face contorting in pain as they began to flicker and fade from view.

Fenris lit up in response and pulled Anders towards him. “I should have killed you.” he said in Tevene. “I’ll rectify that mistake.”

Invictus watched helplessly as they flickered in and out of view, Anders’ scream of pain as Fenris hung on grimly to his injured arm drifting in and out of the silence.

“Let go of him, creature!” Fenris snarled as he held on to Anders despite the mage’s screams.

“Love…” Invictus breathed as he looked around for the archer that came with them. “Please be ready to shoot, Nathaniel,” he murmured.

“At what?” exclaimed Nathaniel, staring at them in bewilderment even as he fitted an arrow to the string.

“Let go, let go!” screamed Anders. “You’re tearing me in two!”

The nameless elf stared at Fenris. “Let... him go....” he said quietly. “Please.”

“No, _you_ release him, creature,” Fenris said as he raised his hand to strike the elf down. “Let him go, now!”

Anders was reeling, whitefaced, only held up now by Fenris and the nameless elf’s hands upon his arms. The elf stared at Fenris, his face drawn in pain. “Then I will take you with us.” There was a brilliant flash of light and Fenris felt a surge of power race through his brands like white-hot fire.

“No! Shoot that elf, shoot it!” Vic screamed.

With a look of hopeless dread, Nathaniel let his arrow fly. It flew straight and true, straight through the elf’s incorporeal torso a bare second before both men had to turn away and shield their eyes from the brilliant white light that whited out the world.

When they could see again, the warehouse was empty save for the three dead guards and the rest of Varania’s men eyeing each other and then the two men warily.

“FUCK!” Invictus screamed as he unleashed a Hand of the Maker on the remaining men. “Let’s find them, if Fenris’ brands are still lit, I can track them.”

Nathaniel fired into the group of men that had somehow managed to keep their feet, then grabbed at Invictus’ arm. “Let’s get out of here, there’s too many of them,” he suggested. 

The Champion headed out of the warehouse and followed the feeling of his lover to the docks, the sense getting stronger as he ran heedless of how he looked running through the streets.

Nathaniel ran by his side, darting Invictus occasional worried looks as the mage slowed down then came to a halt. “Lost them?” He glanced around the nearby warehouses. “Wait. Do you hear horses?”

A moment later the doors of the nearest warehouse burst open and a group of riders emerged, Varania at their head. “Out of my way!” she screamed as she unleashed a spirit bolt that threw Invictus off his feet before turning and wheeling her horse about to gallop away along the docks, closely followed by the rest of her men. There was a flash of blond hair somewhere in the middle of the group of riders but of the nameless elf or Fenris they could see no sign.

“Take her out,” Invictus said as he cast Gravitic Ring to slow them down. 

“Wait - Fenris!” called Nathaniel, pointing towards the open doors of the warehouse. His keen archer’s eyes had spotted something in the halflight inside.

“I didn’t forget, but she can’t get away with Anders either. You help Fenris, I’ll get her!” Invictus channeled his rage into another Fist of the Maker that he aimed at the group of riders. “Anders - duck!” 

Something seemed to be obstructing his spell, draining it somehow; there was a flash of bright lyrium light from somewhere in the group of riders, and as the outermost riders were scattered Invictus spotted the strange elf staring back at him, one lyrium-lined hand upraised towards him. Anders was slumped in the saddle of the horse next to him, held upright by one of Varania’s men.

“Ride on!” screamed Varania, whirling her staff overhead as she threw a fireball back towards Invictus.

There was a startled yell then a scream from inside the warehouse as Invictus felt the surge of lyrium again, its song bright and clear in his head as Fenris awakened suddenly.

The elf vaulted up to run after Varania and Anders. He saw them and grinned as he lit his brands to catch up to them. 

Invictus laughed maniacally as he froze her fireball and cast his own fireball at the rider that had Anders. His laughter died as the nameless elf reached over and grasped Anders’ wrist, phasing them both into incorporeality even as the fireball hit, incinerating the rider and horse. The elf drew Anders onto his own horse and away from the collapsing corpse of the other beast before spurring his own mount onwards.

“Fuck...take her out Vic,” Fenris said as he stopped briefly.With another flash of blue he was gone.

Invictus snarled and started to fling fireballs at the group that fled them They were soon far beyond his range however, and a faint groan from the warehouse distracted him.

He made his way back to find Nathaniel laid out and bleeding from the nose, one hand clutching at his chest. 

“Hold still, let me see if it’s broken.”

“He had my heart in his hand,” said Nathaniel very quietly.

“Well he didn't take it, so that’s a start,” Invictus said as he dabbed at the warden’s face. “Ah, that’s not from a punch in the face, good. Can you sit up and take a potion?” Vic said quietly.

“I think so,” said Nathaniel, his voice a little uncertain. “Maker, that hurt. I never, ever want to feel that again.”

“That seems to be the consensus,” Vic said as he uncorked a bottle and handed it to the archer. “Once you can get up, we need to get horses and get after them.

Nathaniel downed the potion gratefully then nodded. “Can I smell... burnt horse?” he asked with a frown.

“Yes, misdirected fireball of mine. But we need to move.” Invictus stood up and helped the warden to his feet. Nathaniel seemed a little dazed still but he slung his bow on his back and nodded his readiness.

“Hope you can ride well, and that we can catch them.” Vic muttered as he led the way back towards the docks.

**

Varania drove them on. Anders was vaguely aware of the nameless elf’s hand around his chest, keeping him upright; it was hard to think clearly through the haze of pain and lingering aftereffects of the magebane. If only he could actually concentrate, he could heal himself and then deal with everything else but the pounding of the horse’s hooves seemed to radiate right through his body, every jolt another flare of pain. It felt as though between Fenris and the nameless elf they’d almost ripped his arm off at the shoulder, though at least the horrible sensation of being ripped in two had stopped when Fenris had briefly passed out upon arrival in that warehouse.

The proximity to all the lyrium in the nameless elf’s body was hugely distracting as well. Anders could feel it, with his healer’s senses; feel how the lyrium was leaking from the ragged ends of the brands where the work had not been completed properly, keeping the wounds from healing properly.

And he could also feel what Fenris could not: how fiercely the nameless elf desired to live, in spite of all that had been done to him. Perhaps Varania had said the truth when she said she was not a harsh mistress? Then again, he guessed anyone must seem positively benign compared to Danarius.

Fenris - was he following them? He didn’t know. He needed time to explain to Fenris, but the elf wouldn’t listen. “Too stubborn,” he sighed. “He doesn’t understand. I have to do this.” The blond apostate was unaware he’d spoken aloud.

“No I’m not,” Fenris said from next to him where he’d thrown the rider from it’s horse and caught up with them.

The nameless elf darted a glance sideways at him, the ice-blue eyes seeming to see straight through Fenris.

“Yes you are,” said Anders tiredly. “And now I know I must be badly hurt, because I’m talking to a hallucination. You’re stubborn, you won’t listen, you won’t....”

Fenris snarled and grabbed the horse’s reins and pulled to the right so they would veer away from the group. “Not a hallucination you idiot,” the elf snapped as he held on to their horse as he prayed he wouldn’t get yanked off his own steed.

The nameless elf said nothing, merely tightening his grip on Anders so the blond apostate wouldn’t fall.

“Not possible,” breathed Anders. “You can’t be here, you - we left you behind, you - how?”

“I’ll explain later, shut up and follow me,” Fenris snapped as he turned them further away and spurred his horse to go faster. 

The nameless elf spurred his horse on faster, ignoring the shouts from behind as Varania’s guards raised the alarm. Anders tried to straighten himself in the saddle, shaking his head to clear the magebane fog from his thoughts. “Fenris?”

“That’s my name,” Fenris muttered as he led them back towards the docks.

The other elf guided his horse alongside Fenris as they made their way swiftly through the winding narrow alleyways towards the water until they rode side-by-side.

“The mistress will look for me,” said the nameless elf quietly. “If we do not use our brands she will not feel us.”

“Do not speak to me, creature,” Fenris hissed as he led them to the waterside and finally slid from the horse. He held his arms out to help Anders down.

“Fenris... please. Be gentle. Remember how it felt after Danarius did ... what he did... to you.” Anders glanced at the nameless elf. “I don’t know what his name is but... he’s not just some creature, anymore than you were or are.” He stared down at Fenris as he held out his good hand to the black-haired warrior.

“Watch yourself regarding this subject Anders. That thing is an abomination, put it out of it’s misery and let’s find Invictus.”

Anders snatched back his hand and stayed where he was on the horse. “Abomination?” he said softly.

“Was your hearing damaged too? Whatever was done to that...elf is unnatural. You think I don’t know what I am? I am not normal and will never be more than a testament to his depravity. Get down from that horse before I drag you off Anders.” Fenris snarled as he stared at the blond mage.

The horse was startled by the snarl and spooked sideways a step before the other elf brought it under control. “Am I no more deserving of life than you then?” he asked quietly. “Do you simply see in me a hated reflection you would wipe away? I am a living man, as you are.”

“Fenris, stop. Please.” Anders rubbed his face tiredly with his good hand. “I am tired, in pain, and I can’t deal with this right now. Please, just... just drop the vitriol. Please.”

“You would defend anything you felt sorry for. Fine, have your half-done creature and fix it,” he said bitterly before he went to the water and knelt there as he tried to calm himself.

Anders slumped in the saddle. “He’s not my pet,” he muttered to himself.

“Thank you for defending me,” said the nameless elf quietly. Anders laughed hollowly. 

“You might not thank me when this is all over,” he replied. “I don’t even know if I _can_ fix what Danarius did to you. I’m willing to try, but I make no promises.”

“Understood,” nodded the elf.

“What is your name, anyway?” asked Anders.

“I... do not remember,” replied the elf in a diffident tone.

Invictus swore as he sighted them along the waterfront and sped over to find Fenris hunched over in the sand, Anders and the half-finished lyrium warrior standing together. 

“Anders, Fenris?” he called out.

Anders lifted his head and raised his good hand briefly in greeting, nodding to Nathaniel as the Grey Warden followed the Champion towards them. “We’re alive,” the blond apostate called back. “We gave Varania the slip.”

Fenris didn’t move, he just stared at himself in the water as tears slipped down his face.

Invictus dismounted and slipped Anders a healing potion before he knelt down next to his elven lover. “Fenris, what is it?”

The Tevinter elf just curled into his arms and started to sob brokenly as he was embraced.

Nathaniel slid off his horse and made his way over to Anders, pushing something soft and white into the blond mage’s hands. “What -” began Anders then broke off as he stared down at the faded embroidery upon his mother’s pillow.

“Grabbed it as we were leaving the warehouse,” said Nathaniel, shrugging. “Didn’t think you’d want to leave it behind.”

Anders stared at it then hugged the pillow to his chest. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

“Don’t mention it,” replied the Grey Warden as he eyed the strange elf. “So. Got a name?”

“No, he hasn’t,” replied Anders. “Or if he did, he’s forgotten it.”

Nathaniel nodded thoughtfully, then shrugged off his cloak and handed it to the strange elf. “Those... markings will draw attention,” he remarked.

“We need to get back to the inn, Fenris do you want to ride with me?” Vic asked softly.

Fenris nodded his head and rose with Invictus. “Did you get her?” he finally asked in a low whisper.

“Sorry love, she got away from us,” Vic answered.

Anders drank the healing potion then allowed Nathaniel to nudge him over towards the Grey Warden’s horse before pausing to look back at the other elf. Nathaniel glanced back at him as well.

“Is he coming with us?” he asked.

“He has to; I have to try and fix what Danarius did to him,” said Anders.

Fenris didn’t respond, he just clung to Vic and waited for them to go. 

“Let’s just go and pray to whatever you believe in that we can make it back with no hassle,” Invictus said before he laid a hand over the elf’s tightly clasped fingers and headed back to the inn.

Evening was drawing in, and they were able to make their way back to the inn without further incident. Nathaniel stabled the horses as Invictus, Fenris, Anders and the strange elf made their way inside and up to their rooms.

Zevran was still sleeping, Solona rising to her feet as they entered. She hurried over to Anders and exclaimed over his bandages and state of exhaustion but he waved her off.

“I’ll be alright, I just need sleep really,” said the blond apostate. “I’ll settle for a couple of lyrium potions and food though, and hopefully that will be enough.”

Fenris crawled into the nearest empty bed and turned away from all of them. He was wrung out and couldn’t bear to look at the half-done lyrium elf.

Vic sighed and fell into a nearby chair. “Well now what? I’m sure our cover is blown now.”

Anders downed the two lyrium potions Solona handed to him, then gestured to the strange elf. “Solona, I’ll want your help with... with... him,” he finished awkwardly. “Maker, I can’t just keep referring to you as ‘you’. Did Varania not give you a name?”

The strange elf shook his head, and Anders swore. “Andraste’s flaming arse. Just wonderful.” He sighed. “I’ll tend to Zevran first, then we’ll make a start.” He crossed over to the bed and perched on the edge, reaching for Zevran’s wrist to check his pulse as he looked him over with the professional eye of a healer.

Nathaniel returned to the room as Anders began healing Zevran. “Horses are dealt with,” he announced. The strange elf handed him his cloak and he grunted thanks. “I’m sure I must have a spare shirt that should fit you,” he mused as he headed over towards his pack.

Invictus looked over to where Fenris had curled up in a ball. “Love?”

Fenris burrowed further under the covers and yanked them over his head in response. 

Nathaniel glanced over at the pair as he handed a dark grey shirt and a spare leather tunic to the elf. “Hawke, would you two like some privacy?” he asked quietly.

“Not right now, I need a bath and a nap; everything hurts and I’m starved,” the Champion said slowly. He glanced at the elf-shaped lump under the covers and shook his head _no_ at the archer. When Fenris got like that, pushing him made it much worse.

Nathaniel nodded understanding. “There’s a bathing chamber next door; it has dwarven plumbing and three tubs,” he replied. “I’ll go see about arranging food.”

“Praise the Maker and all the saints,” Invictus muttered before he headed off for the bath.

When he got back, Anders was knocking back another lyrium potion as he hunched over the strange elf who was lying on a couch. The elf’s eyes were closed and sweat stood out on his brow as Anders set to work on him.

“How’s he doing?” Vic asked softly.

“It’s... tricky,” said Anders. “The lyrium’s leaking from the ends of the brands. Danarius looks to have carved open his flesh then started adding the lyrium a section at a time, but only filled in half the lyrium. So it’s leaking from the unsealed ends where it should have flown on into the other side of the body. But the enchantments were laid in the carved channels, and there are stray drops of lyrium that seem to have migrated into them - or maybe lyrium was ripped out from them and fragments left behind; I’m not entirely sure which. I’m trying to seal the open ends of the brands but it’s slow going. Danarius used blood magic and didn’t care about how much pain he was causing of course, but I’m having to heal and use my own mana and call upon healing spirits to do this. Danarius’ magic is... fighting me.”

“Is there anything I can do to help you?” Vic asked as he watched Anders work.

Anders nodded. “I keep getting backlashes from the blood magic. If you deflect the worst of them, it will help a great deal - then I can concentrate on the healing.”

Solona looked up from where she sat cross-legged near the elf’s feet. “I’m trying to unwind and dispel the blood magic but there are little hidden bits I keep missing, or bits that are too closely entwined with the lyrium. I have no experience of working on anything like this but Anders tells me you probably have a better idea of how this kind of magic works?”

Before she could get an answer from Invictus, Fenris bolted from room and into the other suite that had been rented by their group. Overhearing them had been the final straw for him. He sunk to his knees before the bed and began to shake. He knew he was not normal, he knew it yet that half-done elf had gotten to him and he couldn’t bear it anymore.

Then a high, agonised scream echoed from the other room briefly before being cut off.

Fenris began to rock back and forth, his hands over his ears as he murmured to himself that it was ok, that he was safe, he wasn’t a slave anymore over and over.

Somehow, the silence was even worse than the scream; he knew from the pull of the magic on his brands that one of the mages had put a silencing spell around the room, but his imagination filled in the silence far too well. 

In the other room Invictus worked with Solona and Anders to work on the elf through his screaming and writhing under Nathaniel’s hands. He looked to Anders with a plea for it to be over soon.

Anders gritted his teeth and worked on. He was blocking as much of the pain as he could but the magic in the elf’s body was like a living thing, and it fought against his control. 

“Maker, can you not put him to sleep?” muttered Nathaniel as he held down the delirious, screaming elf. “For the sake of our own nerves if nothing else?”

Anders shook his head. “Part of Danarius’ workings affect his central nervous system. If I touch on something that affects his brain, I could do damage without realising it. Believe me, I hate this as much as you do.”

“I think we’re nearly there,” said Solona. “Ah! There it goes. Maker, how in the Void did this poor sod survive even half of what that bastard did to him?”

“Same way Fenris did,” answered Anders as the elf fell silent, gasping for breath. “Andraste’s tits, Varania seriously expected me to fix this by myself?” He shook his head, exhausted. “Nearly done.” He closed his eyes and flooded healing magic through the elf’s body, and the elf sighed then closed his eyes as Anders sat back, drained. 

“It’s done - at least, as much as I can do,” said the blond apostate.

“Then I should check on Fenris, then collapse on my face for a few hours.” Invictus said as he stood up and winced.

Anders nodded and tried to stand up, nearly falling over in his weariness. Nathaniel moved swiftly to catch him. 

“Bed for you, now,” said the Grey Warden as he slung Anders’ arm over his shoulder and half-dragged the ennervated apostate towards the single cot in the corner. Anders tried to protest weakly but gave up as Nathaniel dropped him onto the cot then shoved his mother’s pillow into his arms. Anders wrapped his arms around the pillow and rolled onto his side, dropping asleep in minutes.

“Come on Solona, you need food then rest as well,” said Nathaniel as he helped her to her feet.

“No, at least one mage needs to stay awake and alert in case that Varania tries to reclaim her elf and Anders,” argued Solona as she allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. She stared down at the unconscious elf.

“Going to give him a name too?” asked Nathaniel as he grabbed a throw from the back of the couch and draped it over the unconscious elf. 

Solona snorted. “He can name himself when he wakes up; he has earned the right, I’d say.” She eyed the sleeping elf critically, glancing over the results of their work.

The ugly carved scars over the left side of his body had faded and smoothed over with Anders’ healing magic, the skin tight and shiny with a faint silvery sheen like a faint reflection of the lyrium lines and whorls that adorned the right side of his body. 

Nathaniel frowned at the shock of white hair that fell over the sleeping elf’s right eye. “So the white hair comes from the lyrium?” he mused, noting how the hair was snow-white on the side with lyrium, a deep blood-red on the scarred side.

“So it seems,” answered Solona. “Had Danarius completed his work, he would have been almost identical to Fenris.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “It’s just as well Anders never fell into Danarius’ hands.”

“Why?” asked Nathaniel as she turned away.

“Because this elf was a mage before Danarius got his hands on him,” she answered over her shoulder with a shrug before turning her attention to the plates of cold food laid out on the table.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris isn't doing well after they find Nameless, and he really isn't ok once he learns more of the strange elf's past. Solona burns all the bridges, grade A heroics from Cousin Amell.

Invictus entered to find the dark haired elf had curled on his side in the dark room. He went over and called out before he tried to touch his lover.

"I'm here love, what do you need?" Vic said softly as he cast a Silencing spell on the room.

"Not safe, not safe." Fenris muttered.

“You are safe love, I’m here now.” Invictus said before he pulled the elven warrior into his arms and held him close.

“Is it gone?” the elf mumbled.

“No, he’s been healed and is sound asleep. Please stop calling him an it, you’re not an it.” Vic said softly to take the sting from his words.

“I...just tell me when _he’s gone_ then.” Fenris replied as he curled further into Vic’s embrace.

“That may not be for a little while love. Do you want to eat, take a bath, or be left alone?” the Champion questioned him.

“Not alone, please just stay with me for a while Vic.” the elven fighter replied.

“Alright, let’s get into the bed at least.” after a nod from the elven fighter, Invictus got them safely tucked into bed and soon he had his arms full of an exhausted, slightly shocky elf. Soon, Fenris fell silent and heavy with sleep but rest did not come for Invictus for a long time.

Whatever Varania’s plans for Anders and the nameless elf may have been, there was no attack that night, though Solona and Nathaniel had kept watch between them, and Solona had warded the suite thoroughly. When morning came, the two Grey Wardens were tired and grim-faced as they woke the others with breakfast.

Nathaniel came to wake Invictus and Fenris, shaking Invictus’ leg through the blankets to get his attention. “Breakfast is in the other room; join us when you’re ready,” he said quietly.

“Breakfast, already?” Invictus slurred as he opened his eyes and turned towards the warden. 

“Mmmph, food.” Fenris muttered as he sat up and rubbed at his face. “Morning already, didn’t think I’d slept that long.” he said as he came awake.

“Take the collar off,” said Nathaniel. “Solona says no more collars; we blew our cover anyway so there’s little point in you and Anders continuing to be miserable, and it chafes Zevran’s scar far too much.” He paused as he straightened. “The... other elf is still here. He’s... well. I guess you’ll see for yourselves. Fenris, when you first escaped from Danarius... did you....” He broke off and made a noise of frustration. “I’m not sure how to ask this without risking being an insensitive clod.”

Fenris got in his face and snarled. “Then I suggest you keep your question to yourself. I am not going to be some guide to fixing ...that elf you found. I will not roadmap my past pain to help, it. Him, whatever his name is.” he whipped off the collar and went to wash the remaining make up from his face so he could eat.

Invictus shook his head frantically to indicate Nathaniel shouldn’t push it with his lover. “I’ll be next door love, I had a bath before bed.” he hustled the archer out of the room and into Solona’s suite quickly.

Nathaniel gestured at the elf kneeling at Anders’ feet, head bowed. “We don’t know what to do with him,” he admitted. “He insists that Anders saved him therefore he belongs to Anders. When Anders tried to tell him he was free, he became near hysterical.”

Anders was sitting on the edge of his cot, his head in his hands, not looking at anyone - least of all the elf kneeling at his feet, head bowed, waiting.

“Get up.” Invictus said to the still nameless elf. 

The elf lifted his head a little, his ice-blue gaze flicking to Invictus’ feet. “Master?” he asked softly.

“Don’t call me that,” said Anders, a note of pain in his voice.

Fenris entered the room and stopped in his tracks. He stared at the elf at Anders feet, then the mage. “I didn’t know you were in the market for a slave Anders.” he snapped.

Anders’ head jerked up and he gave Fenris a stung look. “I’m not. Believe me, I’m the last person to want to take on a slave. But every time I tell him he’s free, he grows hysterical.”

“Master, please, don’t,” said the elf softly, his expression troubled and anxious as he reached a scarred hand towards the blond apostate’s knee, his fingers hovering as though he didn’t quite dare touch. “Do not send me away, Master!”

“I’m not sending you anywhere, and I’m not-!” Anders broke off with a groan before tugging at the hated collar round his neck. “Does this not mean anything to you?”

“It was a disguise, Master, this one understands. This one should be wearing the collar instead. Please, Master. Do not be upset.”

Fenris went over and undid the collar from Anders throat with a few hard yanks then flung it across the room.

Anders closed his eyes as the elf tugged roughly at the collar, biting his lip briefly as the hard leather dug into his neck, then swallowed as the hated thing was pulled free before looking up into Fenris’ face. “Thank you love,” he said huskily.

"Don't thank me. So what are you going to do with him?" Fenris asked as he leaned in to the other man.

Anders let his arms lift to wrap around Fenris’ hips as he rested his head against the elf’s stomach. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “I can’t leave him here like this - Varania will just snatch him up again, or some other magister who wants to have a poke and find out how Danarius made him. But I can’t be his Master.”

The elf made a choked, despairing noise, and Anders glanced up at him hurriedly. “You’re not going to be thrown out. I won’t let anyone experiment on you again, I promise. But you can’t call me Master.”

"So what you're going to keep him like a pet? Going to name him too I suppose?!" Fenris said angrily as he pulled back from the mages touch.

"Fenris!" Invictus called his name with a touch of annoyance. "Anders is no slaver, can't you see how upset he is by this?"

“No!” exclaimed Anders, his eyes widening in horror. “No, I couldn’t - I couldn’t have even before we came here, but do you honestly think after the past couple of weeks I would be capable of such a thing? I can’t and I won’t!”

Solona made a sound of disgust. “For a former escaped slave you show an incredible lack of compassion for the poor sod,” she muttered. “How would you have liked it if someone had stood over you and talked about you like that just after you escaped? Did no-one ever show compassion towards you as an escaped slave?”

Nathaniel made a faint groan and shook his head at Solona, but she ignored him.

Fenris turned his head and stared at Solona for a moment before his face contorted in rage. "Keep your fucking opinion to yourself. I don't care about you nor your thoughts on this matter. I was speaking to Anders, so stay out of this conversation."

He looked down to the elf at their feet with disgust before he glanced back to the blond mage. "We can speak in the other room after I've had breakfast. Unless you wish to make it a public discussion?"

Invictus stood there as their argument went on, unsure of what to say so he remained silent.

The elf at Anders’ feet reached for Anders’ knee again, hesitantly, then let his scarred fingers rest lightly upon the blond apostate’s knee. “This one is sorry to bring so much trouble to his Mas- to A-Anders,” he said quietly, bowing his head. “This one is grateful for A-Anders’ concern. This one would - would speak freely, if Mas- if A-Anders would permit?”

Anders laid a hand over the fingers upon his knee. “You need no-one’s permission to speak,” he said firmly. “You may always speak freely - in my presence or out of it.”

The elf lifted his head to stare into Anders’ eyes. “This one is afraid to be free. This one has only ever known the life of a slave. This one would stay with Anders, if Anders will permit? Anders has shown only gentleness and kindness and tried to protect this one from others who would slay him for the mere crime of existing.” His eyes darted briefly to Fenris then back to Anders. “This one did not ask to be made as he is. This one does not understand why another who was made as he is would wish to kill him simply for existing. Anders will not let his companion slay this one. This one would stay. Please. Let this one - let _me_ stay with you.” He lowered his head. “I am frightened,” he whispered.

Fenris growled at the other elf again before he stepped away. "You didn’t understand, I doubt you ever will," he said quietly before he looked to Anders. "I would speak with you privately later." The elf sounded tired as he headed towards the table where a buffet breakfast had been laid out. "I'm getting breakfast then going back to our room; Vic will you come with me?"

Anders nodded his head before dropping it into his free hand with a small, tired sigh. He squeezed the elf’s hand reassuringly. “Not your fault, this is just... very complicated.” He straightened up then winced as pain flared in his shoulder.

Fenris filled a plate and skirted past them to shake Zevran by the shoulder. "Wake up."

Invictus handed a plate to Anders and one to the elf that remained on the floor. "Want me to check your shoulder?" he asked quietly.

Anders nodded then smiled reassuringly at the elf. “It’s OK, you don’t need to wait for permission to eat,” he told him. “If there is food and you are hungry you must help yourself and eat, understood?”

“Yes, Anders,” replied the elf and began devouring his food as though afraid it would be taken away at any moment.

Anders sighed, then turned slightly so that Invictus could see to his back. “It was a throwing knife I think. Someone dressed it whilst I was unconscious but there was magebane on the blade.”

The Antivan elf stirred slightly as Fenris shook him then opened his eyes, blinking. “ _Carissimi_?” he murmured. “I heard your voice but I thought I was dreaming.” He lifted a hand to stroke Fenris’ cheek.

“Not a dream, I’m here still.” Fenris said. “Sit up and eat.”

Zevran pushed himself up into an upright position resting against the pillows. His torso and arms were swathed in bandages, as was his throat. He glanced over at the food and his eyes brightened a little.

“Can you feed yourself, or do you need help?” the Tevinter elf asked as he balanced the tray with their plates on his lap.

Invictus had closed his eyes to focus on healing Anders as best he could, but pulled his hand away with a hiss. “Fucking magebane is thwarting me.”

“I think there’s some left in the wound,” said Anders. “Not enough to block my magic but enough to affect me trying to heal it.”

Zevran reached for a bread roll. “Whilst I will not deny the thought of being handfed by you does delicious things to me, _carissimi_ , I can manage,” the Antivan smiled. He tilted his head a little to one side. “So, our deception is at an end then?” He gestured with his free hand at Fenris’ brands. 

Solona glared at Fenris’ back then turned away and stalked stiffly over to the table to help herself to food. Nathaniel gave a quiet, long-suffering sigh and rolled his eyes before helping himself and heaping up a second plate to take over to the nameless elf who had cleared his own plate. The elf looked startled when the Grey Warden thrust the second plate at him.

“Eat, you need it after the healing you went through last night,” the archer told the elf gruffly before walking away to lean against the wall near the door where he could watch the room as he ate.  
Fenris nodded yes, then dug into his own meal as he sat with the Antivan elf. Once he was done he looked over to Anders and gestured towards the door. “Only if you are ready.” 

Anders set aside his own plate and nodded as he got to his feet. The nameless elf set down his plate and rose to his feet but Anders lifted a hand to forestall him.

“I’ll be fine,” he said softly. “Stay and eat.” He glanced at Fenris then nodded towards the door.

The elf looked uncertain but knelt once more and took up his plate again as Anders made his way towards the door, his eyes on Fenris.

Fenris avoided the other elf’s gaze as he led Anders into the other room and took a seat. Once the door was shut and the mage before him he spoke. “I...I can’t deal with him Anders. It’s too much like awakening from my brands again, to see his confusion and fear of being free. It’s too much like my past. Please try to understand.” he said hoarsely.

Anders dropped to his knees in front of Fenris and reached for his hands. “I’m sorry love. I know this must all be incredibly hard for you. I’m trying to understand, believe me.”

Fenris squeezed his hands gently and took a deep breath. “I feel terrible but I can’t allow myself to feel pity but the guilt is getting to me. I begged for death, prayed for it after I was branded. The agony he must have been in to only be half-done. I’m not a monster, please Anders. He...he’s getting to me and having Solona speak to me like that, it didn’t help.”

Anders’ fingers tightened gently in Fenris’ grasp. “Take a deep breath love,” he urged him softly. “Solona is... well. She’s always been somewhat abrasive, I’m afraid. One day she might learn when to keep quiet.” He shrugged then winced. “Looking at him must be like looking almost at a mirror. He wants to live though, Fenris. I wouldn’t be trying to help him if I thought death would be merciful.” 

His eyes darkened sorrowfully. “I’m no stranger to releasing people from their pain, Fenris. Karl... wasn’t the first. Sadly I don’t think he’ll be the last. But he... he wanted to live. And looking at him, I could only see you.”

“I’m not him, I’m not a slave anymore.” Fenris said. “Do you pity me as well then?” he asked tiredly.

“No! No, love, I don’t pity you,” said Anders, his fingers pressing Fenris’ in emphasis. “I see in you hope for him. You escaped Danarius and you are your own man, free, strong. If you can do this then there is hope that he can too. You’re not a slave and nor is he - but he needs time to understand this. I know it must be painful to look upon him - but you’re not there, in his position anymore love. No-one can ever put you there again.”

“He...he doesn’t even have a name.” Fenris muttered. “My name was taken from me, that boy is dead and long gone yet she called me Leto, over and over. Leto is no more Anders, I’m just Fenris now. I used to be like him, a shell, a broken thing that no one cared about. He’s hurting me, just by being here. Why can’t he see that? Why must I endure this again?” he sobbed.

“You’re not that broken thing anymore love,” said Anders as he shifted closer until he was kneeling between Fenris’ knees and he wrapped his arms around the elf, pressing his face against the warrior’s chest. “You are loved and cherished and cared for. There’s no ‘just’ Fenris - you are Fenris, and I love you.”

“I don’t deserve it, I can’t even show any compassion for him when I’ve been in his place. I am that broken thing, I just hide it very, very well.” Fenris rasped. 

Anders tightened his arms around Fenris, ignoring the pain that radiated down his back and along his arm. “You _do_ deserve it and nothing you can say will change that,” he said fiercely. “I love you, and I’m not going to stop just because you’re in shock and upset and hurting. I love you, I love you, I _love you._ ”

Fenris tried to pull away from the mage as he shook his head and negated what Anders said. “No, I don’t. I can’t even feel anything for another elf that was put through the same damned thing I was but he wasn’t even finished. He’s been in agony and hurting and all I want is to ignore him, make him go away so I don’t hurt.” the elf said brokenly.

Anders bit back a cry of pain as the elf’s movement caused a knife of pain through his shoulder and he let his left hand drop. “Hurting doesn’t make you unworthy of love,” he managed. “You’re entitled to your pain, and it doesn’t make you any less deserving of how I feel about you.”

“As you say, you should go take care of your own injuries. I need to be alone for a while.” Fenris said in defeat.

Anders choked back a sob of mingled frustration and pain as he slumped against Fenris. “I don’t want to leave you like this,” he murmured. “I wish there was someway I could ease your pain, make you understand how loved you are.”

“Accept that this time, you can’t make that happen. Not right now. Go take care of yourself, just let Vic know I want and need alone time.” Fenris said as he rose and helped Anders to his feet.

Anders lifted his good hand to cup Fenris’ cheek as he bent his head to gently kiss the elf. “I love you,” he breathed against Fenris’ lips. “I can’t stop saying it, but it’s true.”

“I love you too and perhaps when I am feeling more myself I will be able to appreciate it.” Fenris said before he gave Anders a gentle kiss. “Now please, leave me for a while.”

Anders nodded sadly and turned away, cradling his injured arm with his good hand as he hung his head and made his way back towards the other room.

Fenris went to the bed, flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling as his thoughts circled around the other elf and his reaction to him.

Anders closed the door with his foot then made his way back over to the cot, lowering himself down to sit on the edge. The nameless elf still knelt where he’d left him, though he’d finished eating.

Anders glanced at Invictus. “He wants to be left alone to think,” he said quietly. “I don’t think there’s anything we can do or say to help him right now. I tried, but....” He shrugged helplessly then closed his eyes against the flare of pain. 

“There’s not, if he’s asked to be alone then let him be.” Vic said as he uncorked a healing potion and handed it to the blond mage. Anders took it with a nod of thanks, drinking it down with a faint grimace.

“That’s not one of mine; tastes too sweet,” he muttered.

“One of mine I think,” said Nathaniel. “The potion-maker at the Keep is always fiddling with the recipe.”

“Fire them, they’re terrible,” said Anders.

“You could always come replace them,” suggested Solona. Anders fixed her with a glare.

“No. Absolutely not,” he growled. “You’re not dragging me back there again, Solona.”

“No, I think you’ve made enough of a mess with things between you both already...cousin.” Invictus said sternly.

Solona glared at him. “Once a Grey Warden, always a Grey Warden,” she retorted.

“Solona... drop it,” said Nathaniel from his place by the door. 

“I’m not partial to being abandoned and betrayed, Solona,” said Anders bitterly. “You did it to me once, I’m not likely to forget in a hurry. And frankly, as unpleasant as Darktown may be and with all the problems in Kirkwall, it’s still far better than traipsing through the Deep Roads.”

“I suggest you listen to your fellow warden. I will fight you for Anders if you persist Solona, because I’m not swayed by your title or fame.” Invictus said as he shifted very subtly to stand by his lover.

“I explained why I had to leave, Anders,” said Solona quietly.

Anders laughed bitterly. “That doesn’t change the fact that you let templars into the order, or that they’re still there. It doesn’t change the scar over my heart or the years I spent possessed by Justice because I was left with no fucking choice between that or being dragged back to the Circle to hang or worse because you - you -” He had risen to his feet, gesturing at her angrily. “You thought some precious _rumour_ was so important you had to run off and investigate but I mattered so little to you that you’d leave me behind to rot in templar hands!”

Solona lowered her head and turned away.

“Anders, perhaps we should get you cleaned up and changed into something comfortable?” Invictus suggested quietly.

Anders glared at her back, his chest heaving as he fought to control his breathing. Finally he nodded and sat back down, dropping his gaze to the floor as the nameless elf looked on, worried.

“Let me help, Mas- Anders,” he corrected himself.

“If you wish,” said Anders tonelessly. 

“Perhaps you can take a bath as well and think of a name for yourself, we can’t keep saying hey you.” Vic said as he rummaged around for their bathing supplies and gave them to the kneeling elf. 

“I’ll see about lunch then I’ll rouse Fenris if he’ll come over here.” Vic pressed a gentle kiss to Anders’ cheek and whispered that he loved him before he moved back.

The elf rose to his feet and moved towards Anders, reaching for the bandages. Anders tilted his head to one side to allow him to deftly unwind the bandage, the blond apostate silent apart from a faint hiss of pain when he tried to lift his arm.

The elf laid the bandages aside and carefully removed the dressing to reveal the stab wound in Anders’ shoulder, then glanced towards Invictus, his gaze not quite meeting the Champion’s eyes. “This one has... little experience of much more than rudimentary healing,” he said apologetically.

“There’s mage bane in his wounds, so healing magic won’t work until it’s out of his system. Just give him a healing potion and help him with his bath. Be sure to take one yourself, and please come up with a name!” Vic said to the now free slave.

“Let me see,” said Zevran quietly as he appeared unexpectedly next to Invictus. “I have some small talent with healing.” He leaned over Anders, his slender graceful fingers probing lightly around the wound. “This should have been stitched,” he remarked. 

“Fenris is good at that, perhaps we can get him to do so before lunch.” Vic remarked. “You shouldn’t be out of bed yet, you were seriously hurt.” he fussed at Zevran.

“Ah, do not fret, friend Hawke,” said Zevran with an airy wave of the hand, not looking up from the wound. “Hmm, Anders, do you have any pain elsewhere?”

“Just the shoulder,” replied the mage tiredly.

“Just so. You were fortunate my friend; the wound could have been much worse.” He glanced at Invictus. “If you give me the needle and thread I can stitch this, or would Fenris prefer to take care of this do you think?”

“I think he needs more time, if you want to stitch him up, go ahead.” Vic replied.

“No... I’ll wait for Fenris,” said Anders. “Nothing against your skills, Zevran, but... I’d prefer Fenris did it.”

“As you prefer,” replied the Antivan. “Come, let us get you washed and dress the wound then.”

“As you wish, I’ll wake him after I order lunch.” Invictus headed downstairs with a sigh. He knew the innkeeper would likely want him to pay for the bloodstains left by Zevran as he carried him through the place.

After haggling with the innkeeper over the costs of cleaning the rugs (having refused point-blank to pay for replacements), Invictus returned to find Anders had been bathed and was now lying face-down upon Solona’s bed, wearing a spare pair of Nathaniel’s pants. The elf was nimbly untangling Anders’ damp hair with a comb as Zevran looked on, making comments occasionally that made the elf blush though his fingers did not so much as pause.

“No, Zev, he is _not_ going to braid it,” muttered Anders, his voice muffled by the pillow.

“It’s long enough, might keep it out of your eyes.” Vic added as he smiled at them. “I’ll get Fenris.”

“Not looking forward to this,” muttered Anders.

“It will be fine.” Vic said before he went and got the Tevinter elf from bed and into the room with the others.

Fenris seemed surprised at the needle and thread pressed into his hand by Zevran. “What’s this for?”

“Anders’ wound needs stitching,” replied the Antivan. “He was not comfortable with letting me do it but asked for you instead.”

Anders shifted his head on the pillow and glanced at Fenris through his tousled damp hair. “Please, love? I’d rather it was you.”

Fenris narrowed his eyes at the blond man but said nothing. Instead he got to work, his expression closed off as he threaded the needle and eyed the wound. “This will hurt, I suggest you find something to bite down on.”

Anders tensed as he felt the elf draw nearer. The nameless elf wordlessly unthreaded the leather belt from the pants he wore, folding it over then holding it out so Anders could bite down on it. The blond mage drew a deep breath then nodded his readiness. 

He flinched a little as Fenris laid a hand upon his shoulder, but held still through the stinging pain of the needle as it dug into his skin, a muffled sound of protest making its way past the leather. Anders’ fingers clawed into the bed beneath him as the elf began to stitch.

“Relax or it will hurt more.” Fenris said as he went as fast as he could without missing a spot. Once he was done, he took a clean, cool cloth and wiped the blood away from the closed injury. “You can let go of the belt now.” the elf said as he dumped the needle and thread into the bowl that the nameless one held out for him. 

“Thank you…” Fenris paused, unsure what to call the other elf.

“Nakusa,” said the elf softly.

Anders’ eyes had closed as Fenris stitched his back, but they flew open as the elf spoke though he said nothing.

“Nakusa...that seems almost familiar to me.” Fenris said softly.

The other elf lifted his head slightly. He made as though to speak, then dropped his head. “It is a common enough name for... ones such as this one,” he finally said quietly. 

“What were you going to say? I recognize that look all too well.” Fenris watched him carefully, sure he was hiding something all of a sudden.

Nakusa shook his head. “It is nothing, L- Fenris,” he corrected himself.

“You were about to call me Leto, why?” Fenris asked as he clenched his hands so tight he could feel his nails digging into his palms.

Zevran sat up straight, his gaze flicking from the tight look on Fenris’ face to the nervous expression upon Nakusa’s. Solona and Nathaniel exchanged glances as the archer pushed himself away from the wall and took two steps towards her.

Anders lay still upon the bed, his eyes upon Fenris as Nakusa kept his gaze upon his hands as they lay in his lap. 

“Because... it was once your name, long ago,” replied the elf softly.

“Ho...how do you know that? Did we know each other before?” Fenris asked as he stood and started to back away from the other elf. Something was going on and it wasn’t going to be good.

Nakusa slowly lifted his head. “I knew you. For a little while. You were very young.”

“Tell me, how did you know me? Did she know you too, and still she kept you like...that?” Fenris asked in a harsh whisper, as he fought to breathe.

“She was born after I was... taken,” said Nakusa. “I didn’t know her until she found me in my cell where the Master had abandoned me. He took my name but he... kept records. She must have read of my lineage and realised who I was. I didn’t know her, but she knew me. She was... distraught. She wanted to help me but she couldn’t.”

“She is my sister.” Fenris whispered. “Tell me, how did you know me?” the elf asked as he landed against Invictus.

Nakusa raised his ice-blue eyes until he met Fenris’ gaze. “Because we shared a mother,” he said softly. “I was the firstborn and the first taken.”

Fenris hit the ground in a heap at the other elf’s words, his expression dazed before he slumped over on his side as he begged the other elf to take his words back, to say he lied. “No...no...please no.” he whispered.

Anders stared at Nakusa. “You... and Fenris... are brothers?”

Nakusa bowed his head. “I speak only the truth,” he said quietly. “The Master took me first. Leto - Fenris - was but a child, barely walking. I was ten.”

Fenris tried to scramble back and away from the other elf, his expression wild as he muttered in broken Tevene. He was picked up by Invictus and held still as the Champion tried to calm him. 

“Love...love, listen to us. It’s going to be ok, it’s alright. Calm down, please.” Vic said softly but only got a desperate moaning and near sobbing from the elf in his arms.

“Was that when you first discovered your magic?” asked Solona.

“Solona,” groaned Nathaniel, slapping his hand over her mouth too late.

Fenris turned and stared at her wild eyed then to Nakusa. “Mage...he’s a mage too? She’s a mage...are we all, all of us mages, me as well?” he said in a panicked voice. “Maybe that’s why I …” his words were cut off as he slumped forward in Invictus’ arms in a dead faint.

“Good job, anything else you want to fuck up today cousin?” Vic snarled at her.

“She’s done,” said Nathaniel hastily.

Anders shifted on the bed, attempting to sit up then freezing with a hiss as the movement pulled at the stitches.

“Stay still, let me dress the wound,” said Zevran as he placed a warm hand firmly against the small of Anders’ back, pinning the mage in place. “Nakusa, assist me if you will?”

Invictus put Fenris into the other bed and pulled the covers over his chest, before he brushed some of his darkened hair from his face. “This is too much, I don’t think he’ll make it through this unscathed.”

Zevran and Nakusa carefully helped Anders to sit up as the Antivan elf began to dress the stitched wound before bandaging his shoulder once more.

“I do not think any of us have made it through unscathed, and our journey is not yet over,” said the Antivan quietly. “Solona has made things much worse than they needed to be.”

Solona made to speak but Nathaniel tightened his hand over her mouth and shook his head at her. “You’ve said enough,” he hissed quietly in her ear.

“No, none of us will Zev.” Invictus agreed quietly. “Can you all leave us for a while? I want to wake him and speak privately.” 

With a warning glare to keep silent, Nathaniel pulled away from the Warden and made his way over to the small cot where Fenris lay. “Easier if you and I just shift him into your room, Hawke,” the archer suggested.

“Forbid anyone...never mind.” Vic said as he gathered Fenris in his arms and headed for the door. “Anders, can you come over altar and bring us a tray?”

Anders nodded as he submitted to Zevran’s fussing. The Antivan was tying off the bandages as he gave quiet orders to Nakusa, who rose to find clean clothes for the blond apostate.

“I’ll be there in a little while,” said the mage.

“Thanks.” Invictus went back to the room and roused Fenris with a Rejuvenate spell. He sat back as he watched the elf come around.

“Invictus, please tell me that I had a terrible dream.” the elven fighter asked him.

“Sorry love, not a dream I’m afraid.” Vic said softly. He winced and covered his ears as Fenris started to scream at him, at himself, just at the whole situation. The Champion cast Silence as quickly as he could so the others wouldn't’ hear his lover shouting down the place.

“Fenris, please love stop it.” he begged.

“No...no, can’t, it’s too much. It’s all too much.” Fenris rasped before he started to sob against the mage’s side.

There was a quiet knock at the door, and then Anders entered, carrying a laden tray awkwardly with his good arm, the other arm in a sling. He managed to close the door with a booted foot before he made his way over to the bed. He seemed to be dressed in more of Nathaniel’s spare clothes.

“I can come back later if you’d rather just have Invictus with you for now?” he asked Fenris gently.

“Doesn’t matter.” Fenris said as he sat up and rubbed at his face. “Nothing matters anymore, just...tell me if I’m a fucking mage too.” he demanded.

Anders glanced at Invictus, then knelt on the edge of the bed and reached out his good hand to touch Fenris’ shoulder. He closed his eyes and opened up his senses. He was silent a while.

“You may have been once,” he said carefully. “But... it’s hard to say. The lyrium binds you to the Fade so I can’t tell how much might be innate ability and how much is down to the lyrium. I don’t think you would be capable of wielding magic, but... maybe that’s how you were able to survive the process in the first place?” He opened his eyes and let his hand drop away. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. Whatever you were, you’re not a mage now. You’re... Fenris.”

“Alright... can we go home now? I just want to go home.” Fenris sounded like he’d aged twenty years in ten minutes.

Anders sighed wistfully. “I wish we could, love,” he said gently.

“Then I need to not feel, not until we’re done with things. I need your cousin to shut her mouth and keep her stupid opinions to herself and I need a stiff drink right now.” Fenris said.

“I think Nathaniel is keeping her on the straight and narrow for now. I could use a drink too, Void I could use a whole bottle. Get some food in you first though and I’ll get a bottle for us.” Vic replied. 

“Make that two bottles,” suggested Anders.

“Done and done.” Vic said as he slipped out of the room.

Fenris picked up a plate and finished everything on it before Invictus returned to the room. He felt dull, like he was just existing in that moment rather than living. He took the glass of Starkhaven Malt from Vic and downed it quickly before he held it up for a refill. 

Anders settled himself on the bed with his back resting against the headboard and accepted the glass Invictus handed him, knocking it back at a rather more sedate pace than Fenris had. He wasn’t as used to heavy drinking as the elf was, particularly strong spirits like the Starkhaven whisky; he knew it wouldn’t take much to get him drunk, but the strong liquor was helping to dull the ache in his shoulder. He held out his glass for a refill.

“Anders...Vic, I need to, I need to not feel or think for a while. Can you please, can you?” Fenris faltered and knocked back his second drink before he continued. “Like Anders needed before, can you please take care of me?” he begged them both.

“I’m not sure how much I can do with my arm like this, but....” Anders glanced to Invictus.

“I just want to be face down, eyes closed and you both doing as you wish. I just need to not think, you know what that’s like Anders. Please, I just need these thoughts to stop.” Fenris said as he wiped at his face.

Anders mentally cursed the sling and the knife wound that made it necessary. “Whatever you need, love,” he answered, then hastily downed his second glass, hoping the alcohol would numb the pain enough to let him do this for Fenris.

“Love, I’ll do anything for you but this worries me.” Vic said softly.

Fenris shook his head as he started to pull at his clothing. “Don’t care, worry later. Just need you both. Lock the door and strengthen the Silencing spell.” he said softly.

Anders lifted a hand and closed his eyes as he wove an augmentation to Invictus’ silence spell, then dropped his hand to the lacings of his pants and began to loosen them.

Fenris laid on his stomach and pulled the bottle of oil out of the nightstand so they could use it. He closed his eyes and waited for his lovers to begin.

Vic undressed quickly and helped Anders out of his things except the sling. “Leave it unless you can heal yourself now.” he admonished.

Anders shook his head. “Still magebane in the wound,” he muttered. “It’ll have to heal the normal way.” He settled himself back against the headboard and spread his legs. “Fenris, shift up the bed a bit,” he asked. “Invictus, if you take him whilst I take his mouth?”

“Alright.” Vic said as he snagged the oil and sat between Fenris’ legs. 

The elf did as he was asked then stared up at Anders, unsure if he was to make the first move or not. “Return the favor, anything you want to do to me, it’s alright. Just don’t want to feel right now.” Fenris said quietly.

Anders cupped Fenris’ cheek with his hand and smiled down at him gently. “We’ll go at your pace,” he said softly. He turned and looped his belt around the headpost of the bed, then slipped his wrist in the loop of leather and twisted it until his hand was held in place against the headboard before looking back down at Fenris.

“Now I can’t use either hand and you can pull away any time you need to,” he said. “Do whatever you want. If you need to stop, just pull away. Is there a particular safeword you want to use, love?”

‘No, I need you to be in control, I just ...can’t. Do as you wish to me, it’s what I need Anders. No restraining yourself.” Fenris said as his eyes closed at the feel of Invictus trailing his fingers lightly against his back and down to prod at his ass.

Anders lifted his eyes to meet Invictus’ glance. “If I tell you to stop, you stop, Invictus,” he warned. 

“Of course.” Vic said lightly. He leaned over the elf’s back and started to trail kisses down until he reached his ass then he bit him hard enough to mark. “You are loved Fenris.”

The elf whimpered and arched back for more contact from the darker mage.

Anders lifted his hips a little to brush his cock against Fenris, feeling himself growing aroused as he stared down at the elf. He used the leather strap round his wrist to brace himself a little as he moved.

“You’re beautiful, love,” he said huskily, his amber eyes darkening with desire. “I love you.”

“I love you both.” Fenris said quietly as he felt Invictus’ fingers slip into him, thrusting slowly to open him up. “More...please Vic, just take me.”

“Not going to do that without prep. I’ve learned my lesson.” Invictus said as he threw a guilty glance at Anders. “Spread a bit more for me love, thank you.”

Anders lifted his hips again, the head of his cock brushing Fenris’ cheek. “Fenris,” he begged breathily. “Please....”

The elf opened wide and took his lover halfway down this throat in one slow suck as he looked up at him. He moaned around the mage’s shaft as he felt Vic shift around and press himself against his opening.

Anders’ head dropped back against the headboard, eyes half closed as he groaned at the feel of Fenris’ mouth, hot and wet around his cock. “Oh Maker,” he breathed.

Invictus moved slowly until he was fully inside the elf, a low groan escaped him as he braced his hands on the bedding and worried at Fenris’ neck. “You feel so good love.” he moaned in his ear before he began to thrust.

Fenris’ eyes closed and he opened wider so Anders could fully take his mouth. He opened his eyes again and stared at the blond as he swallowed him down.

Anders cried out softly as his hips jerked, beginning to slowly fuck the elf’s mouth, his breath coming faster. “Oh Fenris,” he groaned. “So good....”

The elven fighter pulled back just enough to beg. “More, faster...don’t want to think love.” Fenris reached up and wrapped his hands around the mage’s thighs as he felt Vic go faster and harder against him.

Anders lifted his head and stared down at Fenris as the elf’s head dipped once more and then the mage moaned as he felt Fenris’ tongue trail up his shaft before swirling around the sensitive head before the elf swallowed him down once more. He cried out as Fenris swallowed, feeling the elf’s throat tighten around his cock. Without consciously thinking about what he was doing, he began to snap his hips, thrusting into that hot, wet, tight throat with panting breaths, oblivious to the pain in his shoulder or the roughness of the leather that bit into his wrist with each jerk of his body.

Fenris would have called out but his mouth was full and his concentration was split between the way Anders used him and the way Invictus was pounding him relentlessly.

Vic had bitten Fenris’s shoulder as he snapped his hips against the elf as he started to lose against his urge to come. “Love you.” he rasped in the elf’s ear before he went back to worrying his neck an ears.

Anders could feel himself coming dangerously close to orgasm, heat building in his groin as he felt his balls tighten. “I’m close,” he managed to gasp, trying to warn the elf. “Fen, gonna... I’m gonna come....”

That made the elf tighten his hold and stare into Anders’ eyes almost in challenge. He couldn’t hold his gaze for long as he felt Vic’s strokes go short and rougher than he’d been going.

Anders let his head fall back as he tried to hold back, but hearing the groans coming from Invictus as the other mage chased his own orgasm was making it very hard. He lifted his head again and stared down at Fenris, trying to gauge how close the elf was to climax.

Fenris moaned around the thick cock in his mouth as he felt Invictus still and fill him with his seed. He opened his eyes and gazed at the blond mage, hopeful he’d follow suit.

“Sorry, wanted you to come first love.” Vic murmured as he stilled against his lover.

Anders was still holding back even as he thrust slowly into the elf’s throat, his breathing little more than ragged gasps. “Want to see you come,” he managed to rasp.

Fenris reached up for his good hand, to indicate he should touch his head.

“I think he wants it a bit rough.” Vic rasped between soft kisses to the elf’s back. “You should take him next, give him what he asked for.”

“How about it, love?” asked Anders, panting as his hips stilled. “Want to ride me?”

Fenris pulled back and nodded enthusiastically. He untied Anders uninjured hand and whispered in his ear. “Touch me, please.”

Invictus crawled off the bed to wash up and watch them enjoy each other. He wanted to give Fenris pleasure but the elf was already perching himself across Anders hips so he could ride the blond before he could ask.

Anders ran his hand flat up Fenris’ abdomen towards the elf’s chest then let his head fall back onto the pillows with a groan as the elf sank down onto his shaft, Fenris’ entrance wet and inviting, still slick with oil and Invictus’ seed. He held himself still until Fenris was fully seated, then as Fenris made a small plaintive sound and began to rock himself back onto Anders’ cock the mage began to slowly thrust up into him. He let a little trickle of magic pulse through his palm with each thrust into the elf’s willing body.

That touch of magic made Fenris whine and go faster, as he spoke in rapid fire Tevene most of it nonsense as he was overwhelmed with sensation. 

Anders began to move faster, his back arching off the bed a little as he thrust faster into Fenris, biting his lip against the flare of pain in his shoulder that broke through the endorphins. He tried to ignore it, working through the pain as he let another, slightly longer burst of magic spark through Fenris.

The elf moaned Anders’ name as he leaned forward to take the strain off his back and the mage’s shoulder. “Heal...self.” he gasped as he began to rise and drop faster against the former warden’s hips. “Maker...Dumat, save me,” he moaned.

Invictus had sprawled in a chair by the bed to watch, his gaze on every single movement of his lovers.

Anders was beyond words. He trailed his hand lower over Fenris’ stomach, trickling little bursts of electricity followed by a wash of heady healing magic as his hips jerked faster, driving up into Fenris, trying to hit that sweet spot that would make Fenris cry out and push him over the edge even as the mage held back on his own orgasm, determined to see the elf fall first. 

Fenris began to call out Anders’ name as his eyes rolled closed and he bounced harder, faster until he was crying out as he came for his lover. 

Anders finally surrendered to his own climax, crying out hoarsely as he came at last, his body shuddering as he spent himself deep inside the elf until he fell back, limp and drained beneath Fenris. He groaned faintly as the pain in his shoulder reasserted itself.

The elf slowly pulled himself off of Anders and fell to his side. “Thank you.” he breathed softly.

Invictus rose and got hot water, soap and flannels to clean them off. Once he finished with Anders, he took care of Fenris, sure to be gentle with the elf. “Better love?”

A soft snore was his answer. He pulled a cover over them and dressed quietly so he could slip back into the other room and have lunch. He kissed Anders before he left the mage to rest along with their elven partner. 

Vic sat at the table and picked at the cold meats and cheese quietly while he waited for someone to ask what had happened.

The others stared at him then at each other.

“So... “ began Zevran cautiously. “Fenris is...?”

“Sound asleep, we wore him out at his request. Anders could use some healing though, since he overdid it.” Vic said quietly.

Solona got to her feet wordlessly and headed towards the closed door.

“I will laugh if you get a fist in your chest cousin.” Vic said as he swiped another slice of ham from the platter. He glanced at Nathaniel and winked. “Let her learn the hard way, I had to.”

“I have no intention of touching your elf,” she snapped. “The welfare of one of my wardens is another matter however.” She pushed open the door.

“The same warden you left to the tender mercies of the templars? Who told you off not long before we went for a bath? I’m sure your concern is very welcome by your warden.” Invictus polished off his drink and headed over to the sideboard for a glass of cold water. “He’s not my elf, he’s his own man, never to be property again. You should remember that.”

“Anders was in pain and upset,” retorted Solona as she tossed her hair back. “I just hope your little games haven’t reopened his wound.” She strode into the other room haughtily.

Anders was dozing, halfway into dreams and in a haze of pain when he became aware of someone leaning over him. He opened his eyes as he felt a small hand touch his shoulder.

“Don’t,” he slurred as he tried to lift his good hand to push her away but found it was pinned by a sleeping elf. “Solona, go away. I was sleeping.”

“I need to make sure you haven’t done yourself damage,” she said, not taking her hand away. Anders sighed.

“There was magebane in the wound, Solona. You can’t heal it. It has to heal naturally until my body has dealt with the magebane.” He turned his face away.

“I can at least try,” she argued.

“Solona, I’m tired. I want to sleep. Just go away.”

Fenris turned around and glared at her. “I was sleeping, leave.”

Solona ignored the elf, her lips set in a thin line. “At least let me check you haven’t worsened the damage and do something for the pain,” she insisted.

Fenris rolled to his feet with the sheet wrapped around his waist and his hand aglow. “I said leave, he said to go away, I said to go away. So unless you want to feel my fist around your still beating heart, I suggest you take the hint, Hero.” the elf snarled as he advanced on her.

“Anders,” she said firmly. “Let me ease your pain and then I’ll go.”

Anders groaned. “Alright, but then get the Void out of this room and leave us in peace,” he sighed.

“Do you wish this love? I have no problem putting her out in the hall.” Fenris snapped.

“I _am_ in pain,” the blond apostate admitted tiredly. “I can’t string two coherent thoughts together long enough to do anything about it though. Not after earlier.” He reached his hand out towards Fenris. 

The elf curled up next to him and glared at Solona the entire time she remained in the room. She ignored him as she channelled healing magic into Anders. The blond mage groaned faintly as the healing washed through him in a warm wave, easing the pain to a bearable dull ache. 

Fenris could feel the tension leaving Anders’ body as the slender mage slowly relaxed, his body growing limp and pliant; when she finally stepped away from him, Anders was drifting in half-sleep, barely aware of anything.

The elf glared at her as she remained until the tension was too much. “Out, and thank you for ruining a very pleasant afternoon with my lovers.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “He would not have been in so much pain if you hadn’t induced him to overexert himself,” she sniffed. “Be thankful he didn’t tear any of his stitches, or you would have had to put him through more pain.” She turned and stalked towards the door. “We leave on a ship for Seheron with the morning tide. Do try not to tire Anders out any further.” She swept out with a rustle of silk skirts.

Fenris slipped from the bed and put on his pants in a hurry before he stormed into the room and grabbed her by the hair until she was level with him. “You need to remember something Amell, I am not your warden, I am not under orders to obey you, and you will cease speaking to me as if I am your fucking errand boy. One more snippy remark from you and it will be your last words on this earth. I’m not your slave, and you need to remember you are not actually a magistra.” he hissed angrily as he flexed his hand over her throat.

Her eyes narrowed and then there was a brilliant flash of green light as Fenris was bodily hurled across the room, slamming into the wall with an audible crack that forced all the breath from his stunned body.

“Do not touch me again,” she stated coldly as lightning danced along her arms.

“Solona!” exclaimed Nathaniel in alarm as Nakusa leapt to his feet, staring at the mage then at Fenris as the elf slid down the wall to sit stunned. Nakusa took a hesitant step towards the elf then stopped, staring back at the angry mage with lightning dancing from her fingers. 

“Vic...there are two of you now.” Fenris slurred as he looked at where he thought his lover stood.

Invictus let his power pool in his hands as he stood over the pole-axed elf. “What the fuck happened? Why did he come charging in here after you? Make it quick before I repay the favor, cousin.”

“Calm down, all three of you!” said Nathaniel as he swiftly moved to stand between the two mages. “Whatever it was, you can all just simmer down and stop it! Unless you want to call down every mage for a mile around on our heads just to see the fun of two magisters going toe-to-toe?”

“She hurt him, I heard something crack when Fenris hit the wall.” Vic said as he continued to glare at his cousin. “We go our own way once we’re in Seheron, fuck your mission.” Vic turned and knelt at Fenris’ side. 

“Love, come on...please talk to me.” Vic asked as he lifted the elf’s eyelids to just find the whites showing. “Shit...Fenris, please Maker, don’t die, please don’t die on me.”

Zevran was at his side, reaching to cup the dazed elf’s chin with a firm hand as he turned Fenris’ face towards him, inspecting his eyes with experienced eyes. “Get Anders, quickly,” he said quietly as Nakusa seemed to come to a decision and dropped to his knees on the other side of Invictus.

Vic bolted next door and nearly ran into the blond mage. “Fenris...come quick, please.” the darker mage begged him. Anders nodded, all thoughts of sleep fled as he hurried into the room, taking in the sight of Fenris on the floor and Solona standing on the other side of the room at a single glance. His gaze went to the smear of blood on the wall above Fenris as he crossed swiftly to his lover’s side, and he dropped to a crouch in front of Fenris.

“Nakusa, I need you to very gently phase your hand through Fenris’ skull and tell me if you find any pieces of bone that have moved to press on his brain,” said Anders as he laid his hand gently on Fenris’ forehead.

“He-” began Solona, but Nathaniel grabbed her by the arms and dragged her towards the hallway.

“Not now, Solona,” he growled as he bundled her from the room. “Not the time.”

“Take the other room, I don’t want to see you and if he dies, hope you don’t see me coming Cousin.” Invictus said very quietly.

“Hawke, I’m going to need lyrium,” said Anders as he closed his eyes. Nakusa’s hand was glowing as he raised it towards Fenris’ head.

Vic got him three vials and handed them to the other mage without a word as he fell to his knees next to Fenris and held the elf’s cold, limp hand in his. Zevran intercepted his hand with the vials and took them, uncorking the first and setting it to Anders’ lips. The blond apostate drank without opening his eyes as he concentrated on feeling through Fenris’ skull with his magic, directing healing energy as Nakusa slowly withdrew his hand with a fragment of bone held between his fingertips.

“I’m going to kill her. Slowly, she nearly took him from us in a fit of anger, if you weren't’ here he would die.” Vic said as his voice went flat and deadly.

“Hush,” said Zevran softly. “Do not distract him.”

If Anders heard either man, he gave no sign of it, brow furrowed in concentration as he focused on the delicate work of undoing the damage wrought upon Fenris’ brain by the impact, a steady blue glow surrounding his hand. When the light began to falter, Zevran uncorked the second vial and set it to Anders’ lips. 

“Please don’t die, I can’t...can’t make it without you.” Vic whispered plaintively to who or whatever might be listening to his pleas.

“Not going to let him die,” murmured Anders.

Though the windows were closed, a sudden faint breeze stirred the blond apostate’s hair and whispered across Invictus’ skin. The dark mage thought he could almost hear faint distant voices.

“What was that?” Vic asked in surprise.

“Spirits,” murmured Anders distractedly. “Spirits of healing. They’re helping me. Don’t be afraid.”

“Anything you say.” Vic said as he settled down again and held Fenris’ hand in his.

“Spirit healer,” said Nakusa softly. “Now I understand why the mistress wanted him.”

Colour was returning to Fenris’ face and warmth to the hand held in Invictus’ fingers; presently the elven warrior’s eyes fluttered open and he blinked at Anders in confusion.

“Mother…” he muttered as he stared up at the mage, unsure why he saw a human hovering over him.

Anders opened his eyes as the breeze slowly died away. He frowned a little then glanced at Nakusa.

“Fenris, your mother isn’t here love. Can you hear us?” Vic asked.

“Mother...she was calling me to come with her.” the elf said tiredly as he looked towards the humans then he spotted the elf. “Where’s mother?” he asked Nakusa before his eyes closed again and he slumped against the floor.

Anders closed his eyes briefly. “That was rather too close,” he muttered.

“Will Leto be alright? Will he recover?” asked Nakusa worriedly. Anders opened his eyes and nodded with a small sigh.

“His brain was rather jarred; some confusion and disorientation is to be expected,” he replied. He glanced at Invictus. “Remember how out of it I was after he - after my skull was cracked? He’ll be fine once he’s had a chance to sleep it off I think, though he could feel a bit woozy when he wakes up. I doubt he’ll remember much of what just happened.”

“The way he holds a grudge, he may very well remember all of it.” Vic said. “Nakusa, can you help me move him to the bed?”

“Brains don’t work like that,” replied Anders as he pushed himself back upright and stood with a groan as his knees protested. “Particularly not ones that have just sustained trauma of that nature.”

Nakusa slipped his hands beneath Fenris’ shoulders and helped the Champion carry Fenris over to the bed. 

“I’m going to lie with him if that’s ok Anders.” Vic said softly as he stared at his lover.

“It’s fine, he’s just sleeping normally now,” said Anders, sounding as exhausted as he looked. “Maker, but I am so tired now.” He stumbled to a nearby chair and dropped into it heavily then cried out briefly as the impact jarred his shoulder.

“Up, up,” said Zevran as he tried to urge Anders back to his feet. “There is room enough for the three of you on the bed and you must rest too.”

“Leave me be, let me sleep here,” protested Anders. “I don’t want to move.”

“There’s room. Come over here, please Anders.” Vic said with a hitch in his voice.

Anders allowed the elf to tug him back to his feet and he stumbled over towards the bed, sinking down into the soft pillows with a moan of relief.

Invictus reached over the sleeping elf and touched his hand to Anders shoulder before he closed his eyes. “Thank you for keeping him here with us.” he said tiredly then tried to rest despite the fear that if he slept, Fenris would pass away while he slept. 

The blond apostate rolled his head towards Invictus, but his eyes were already closed and he sank swiftly into an exhausted slumber before he could reply.

“Sleep,” said Zevran softly as he drew the heavy curtains. “I will keep watch.”

The other elf knelt beside the bed and watched silently.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family ties that bind, and strangle. Love hurts and Solona really isn't anyone's favorite Hero anymore.

Fenris had gone to lie down the moment they were onboard the ship. He was curled up in the bunk, under orders from Anders to be still and rest until they got to Seheron. 

The mage himself was sprawled asleep in another bunk at present. Invictus and Zevran had had a struggle to wake the blond apostate that morning, and he had ridden double with Nathaniel on the journey to the docks, the archer keeping a firm grip on Anders as he dozed off.

Solona had avoided Fenris, not even looking in his direction once the entire day. Fenris had no idea where she was now and didn’t much care.

Anders murmured something in his sleep, rolling onto his left side and then whimpering before falling silent once more. They were alone save for the strange elf, Nakusa, who knelt by the foot of Anders’ bunk.

Fenris sat up and looked at the other elf, his sibling he remembered that much. “Nakusa, come here.”

The other elf glanced up, startled out of his own thoughts, then obediently rose to his feet and padded silently across the cabin before dropping to his knees beside Fenris’ bunk, his eyes lowered.

“Get up here, stop kneeling. It makes Anders and me uncomfortable.” Fenris held the thin blanket up so the other elf could climb in next to him.

Nakusa stared at him uncomprehending for a moment, then climbed into the bed, lying down stiffly with his arms by his sides.

“Maker’s breath, relax I’m not going to hurt you. I just wanted to talk, since I...I didn’t take the news we are related very well.” Fenris said quietly as he looked over the other elf, how they looked similar upon closer inspection. How his eyes were forest green, but Nakusa’s were a bright blue, but they had a similar facial structure, nose, all clues they were related..

Nakusa tried to relax, turning his head to look up at Fenris. “I understand it must have been... unexpected,” said the elf quietly. “You were so young when I left, I’m not surprised you didn’t remember me.”

“My memories were taken from me either by the marking ritual or other means.” Fenris said softly. “We look nothing like her.” he muttered.

“She did not undergo the ritual,” said Nakusa, shrugging. “The lyrium... it changes more than just our hair. Your hair... it _is_ white, is it not? I remember.... you were dark as a child, but this... it’s not quite the same shade.” He lifted a hand but did not quite touch Fenris’ raven locks. “Your roots are white.”

“It was dyed as part of our deception. Hopefully it will grow out soon.” Fenris leaned in and let him touch.

Encouraged, Nakusa let the tips of his scarred fingers touch the soft hair, and then they strayed almost of their own accord to the lines of lyrium upon Fenris’ chin.

“I am sorry you were mangled by him. When I sought to kill you I thought it would end your suffering.” Fenris said to him, as his eyes closed while the older elf explored his features.

“He unmade me to make you,” breathed Nakusa softly. 

“I don’t understand.” the younger elf admitted.

“I was a failed experiment,” said Nakusa as his fingers trailed lightly along a lyrium line as it curled along the other elf’s collarbone. “I did not turn out the way he desired, though perhaps I was the first to survive that much of the process. All he learned unmaking me, he put into you. You were the perfection he failed to reach in me, and he took my name and identity from me even as he ripped my flesh apart to unmake me. But he still failed in you, my brother; he did not destroy your spirit. You are a free man.”

Fenris pulled back and gave him a slow smile. “Now I am, but the road was not easy. Come, we should let Anders sleep in peace and I am starved. Come with me to the galley?”

Nakusa nodded as he sat up. “I am hungry,” he agreed. “And Mas- I mean, Anders - should sleep. He seems very tired.”

“He is.” Fenris got up and dressed quickly then led Nakusa to the galley, where everyone else was gathered.

Solona got up wordlessly as the two elves entered and left the galley without so much as a glance in Fenris’ direction, but Zevran welcomed them both with a smile.

“You are awake, _carissimi_! That is good,” he remarked to Fenris as he moved over to make room for the brothers on the bench.

“I was hungry, as was Nakusa.” Fenris said quietly as he sat between Zevran and Invictus, with Nakusa taking up a spot across from him. Zevran leaned over and kissed him lightly upon the cheek as Nathaniel rose to fetch more food.

“We should take Anders a plate when we’re done.” Fenris said as a plate was put in front of him. 

“Let him sleep for a while, he was barely upright the whole way here and we’ve barely been underway for a day.” Vic said as he sipped his tea and glared at his cousin’s back as he’d taken to doing since she’d hurt Fenris.

“I know how tired he was, I was the one holding him upright on my horse,” remarked Nathaniel as he slid a plate in front of Nakusa.

Zevran reached for his mug of tea, his smile flickering a little as the others glanced at Nathaniel.

“Thank you for helping him Nathaniel.” Fenris said as he pushed his plate away and leaned against Invictus. “Love, can we take a walk on the deck after we take Anders a plate?” he asked his mage lover.

Nathaniel shrugged. “It was almost like old times,” he said as he leaned back with his own mug of tea. “Can’t count the number of times he pulled me back together again after I ran up against something too big for me to handle, and then I ended up practically carrying him halfway back to the Keep afterwards. And frequently having to put him to bed when we got there as well.”

“Hmmm. I will take him a plate and see you on deck Vic.” Fenris said as he stood from the table and made his way to the serving area.

Nakusa paused, a forkful of food halfway to his mouth as he watched Fenris. He jumped as Nathaniel patted him on the shoulder.

“Keep eating, Fenris can take Anders his food,” said Nathaniel. “You don’t need to follow him around everywhere like a lost puppy.” He smiled to take the sting out of his words.

“Perhaps that’s all he knows how to do for now Nathaniel.” Vic said to him. “Why don’t you keep Anders company while Fenris and I take a stroll?” he said to Nakusa with a smile.

Nakusa glanced down at his plate then at the forkful of food.

“After you’ve finished eating,” Nathaniel said pointedly.

“Yes, after you’ve had your fill.” Invictus said quietly.

Fenris went into their room, sat the tray aside and nudged Anders to wake him.

Anders rolled over onto his side with a small grunt then opened his eyes. “Fenris? What time is it?”

“Not sure, but you should eat something.” Fenris replied.

The mage sat up groggily and rubbed his eyes with a hand. “I was having the strangest dream,” he sighed. “Now I’m awake I can barely remember it.” He threw the blanket aside and swung his long legs down to the floor, yawning.

“It’s probably for the best then.” Fenris handed him a plate and sat across from him while Anders tucked into his food. “Your warden keeps avoiding me, and Zevran has begun to treat her differently. I don’t fully remember why though, it’s ...fuzzy for lack of a better word.” the elf said quietly.

Anders paused, staring at his plate as he poked a piece of meat with his fork. “She’s not my warden,” he said quietly. “But given how you two rub each other up the wrong way, maybe her avoiding you is for the best. And Zevran... I don’t think he’s fully forgiven her for the torment he’s been going through since he thought she’d died anyway.” He shrugged.

“I meant no offense to you.” Fenris said as he sat with his lover. “I do not know that I could forgive such a deception, no matter the reason why.”

Anders dropped his fork and rubbed at his chest over his heart. “Some betrayals are unforgivable,” he said quietly.

“True enough. I am going to take a walk with Invictus if you would like to join us.” the elf offered.

Anders glanced at his plate then laid it aside half-eaten. “I could use some fresh air,” he agreed. “I’m not really hungry.”

Fenris frowned at him. “You need to recover your energy love.” 

“Maybe when I’ve had a chance to get out of this cabin for a bit,” said Anders. “It’s too stuffy in here.”

“I’ll hold you to that, let’s go then. I’m sure Nakusa is probably terrified of the others.” Fenris said quietly.

Anders nodded and got to his feet, reaching for his feathered coat. He’d stripped out of the slave gear the moment he’d set foot in the cabin and insisted on donning his tatty old feathered garb once more in spite of the heat.

Fenris took his hand and led him to the deck where he found Invictus staring over the water. Anders took a deep breath of the sea air then leaned over the rail, staring down at the water below as white-capped waves rushed past in their wake.

“Hi love,” Fenris said as he slipped his other arm through Invictus’ and leaned against him while he kept hold of Anders hand with his.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Vic asked quietly.

"Tired, confused and a slight headache that won't go away," Fenris replied.

Anders glanced at him. “Should have said earlier love - let me see if I can do something about it?” He lifted a hand and raised an eyebrow, waiting for permission.

"It's not too bad, didn't want to be a bother," Fenris replied as he waved at Anders to go on.

Vic arched an eyebrow at the elf. "You have to tell us if you're feeling poorly love. You had a bad injury." 

Anders gently cradled the back of Fenris’ head with his hand as a soft blue glow suffused his fingers, the energies sinking through the elf’s skull in a soothing wash of healing that lifted the dull ache almost immediately. Anders stepped behind Fenris as he worked and widened his eyes as he shook his head frantically at Invictus, pressing his lips in a thin line indicating he should keep quiet.

Fenris' eyes closed and he sighed in contentment as his pain eased. "Thank you, love," he murmured.

Anders closed his own eyes in turn as he concentrated, carefully feeling through Fenris’ head to check all was healing as it should. He couldn’t find any obvious reason for the elf’s pain, but heads were tricky things, and head wounds always difficult to predict as they healed. He carefully placed a numbing block around the healing area; it should give Fenris some lasting relief for a few hours, and hopefully by the time it wore off whatever had been causing the pain would have worn off as well. He resolved to keep a closer eye on Fenris. 

His face still held a look of concern as his hand lowered from the elf’s head to rest on Fenris’ shoulder as he leaned in close and pressed a gentle kiss to the elven warrior’s cheek. “Better, love?”

"Yeah...why can't I remember what caused my injury?" he asked softly. "It worries me." 

“It can be a common side effect sometimes,” Anders replied. “I still can’t entirely remember everything clearly from when my skull got cracked, to be honest. It’s just one of those things. But you’re healing fine now. Just let me know if your head starts to hurt again, OK?” He darted a warning look at Invictus, resolving to have a quiet word with him later. He didn’t want to have to lie about what happened, but Fenris might not let it rest now the Champion had brought it up.

"Alright. I'll be good and tell you if I start to hurt." The elf snuggled between both of them and sighed. "How long till we get _there_ he asked.

"A few days, I'll ask Nathaniel when I see him again." Vic replied quietly.

“Much less time than it took to get to Antiva, at least,” said Anders, moving back to the railing and leaning on the warm wood. He glanced down as he felt Fenris take firm hold of his hand, then up at the elf. “I’m not going to jump, love,” he said quietly with a small sad smile.

"I know, I just wanted to keep contact love." Fenris replied. He remained quiet as they stood at the railing and watched the wake of the ship slip by.

Invictus squeezed the elf around the shoulder gently before he straightened and looked to where Zevran and Nakusa had taken up a spot by the railing and seemed to be getting on well.

Anders squeezed Fenris’ hand lightly in understanding then glanced over at the two elves.

Nakusa was staring down at the water in wide-eyed fascination. He was leaning over the rail, Zevran’s hand upon his shoulder preventing him from falling too far over. The Antivan elf had an odd, thoughtful expression on his face - almost wistful, Anders thought. The blond apostate nudged Fenris then nodded silently in the direction of the two elves. 

“I wonder what’s going through Zevran’s head?” he asked quietly.

"I wonder but I'm not sure it's my place to ask him." Fenris said.

"He's not going to bite. At least they're getting on well, Nakusa seems intrigued by the water." Vic said. "You should talk, he was worried for you love."

"I wonder if he's ever seen the sea before?" pondered Anders. "The way he reacted when he got on board the boat, I don't think he'd ever been on one. Better hope he doesn't fall overboard - I have the distinct impression he probably can't swim." He turned to Fenris. "Actually, thinking on it - did you ever learn to swim?" he asked the elf curiously.

"No - well I can but swimming with the Dalish is one thing. The ocean, being taught to swim properly in the ocean is not something I can I recall," Fenris replied. 

"Remind me to do something about that when we finally get home, assuming we all survive this trip," mused Anders. "Just as well you didn't follow through on your threat to jump overboard and swim for shore on our last voyage...."

“I could have probably made that, it wasn’t very far.” the elf said as he glanced over to where Zevran and Nakusa were still chatting. “Should we join them?” 

Nakusa suddenly leaned too far forward and Zevran grabbed at him with a look of alarm. There was a brief flash of blue-white light and then Zevran recoiled, clutching his wrist as Nakusa clutched at the railing.

“Looks like we’d better,” said Anders as he broke into a run.

Fenris came over quickly and tugged at Nakusa so he wasn’t about to topple over the rail. “Are you alright?”

Nakusa flinched from the physical touch. “Don’t!”

Anders frowned at Zevran and held a hand out for the Antivan elf’s hand. “What happened?” he asked.

“He leaned too far and nearly fell. I must have grasped his shoulder too tight. It felt like a lightning bolt through my hand,” said the former Crow, allowing Anders to take his wrist and inspect it. There was a reddened mark across the skin like a flash burn; Anders laid his hand over it and gently began to heal it.

“I’m sorry.” Fenris yanked his own hand away from the elf. “Did you use magic on him somehow?” he asked Nakusa.

“I... don’t know,” replied the other elf, shaken. “I felt myself falling and then he grabbed me, and it hurt. And then he wasn’t touching me anymore, but... the brands, they still burn.” He lifted a hand towards his shoulder, his fingers hovering over the lyrium lines which glowed weakly in the bright sunshine, as though his skin were too sensitive even for him to touch.

Fenris couldn’t help but remember those early days after being branded, how even sometimes clothing would hurt too much, how terrifyingly sensitive his skin was, pain always only a touch away.

“Perhaps...Anders could try and take away some of the pain?” he said tentatively.

“Do you two want to be left alone so you can...talk?” Invictus asked quietly.

Nakusa glanced at Anders, a mixture of fear and hope warring in his eyes. “It hurt, before,” he whispered.

“I’m sorry,” said Anders. “I tried to block as much of your pain as I could, but Danarius’ blood magic was fighting me. But if you let me try, I promise I will be as gentle as I can.”

Nakusa looked to Fenris. “Can I trust him?” he begged quietly.

“Yes, he’s saved us numerous times, often at a great cost to himself. He will not harm you.” Fenris replied.

The other elf looked back at Anders. “I want to be able to trust you,” he said softly. 

Anders inclined his head back towards the cabin. “Why don’t you and I go to the cabin with Fenris, and he can sit with you. Will that reassure you? If he’s there to see I do nothing harmful?”

Nakusa slowly nodded, then glanced to Fenris. “Please?”

“Of course.” Fenris arched an eyebrow at Anders, unsure why the other elf was suddenly so wary of his lover after he’d claimed him as his master. But the screaming he’d briefly heard reminded him why his elder sibling might be afraid of magic used on him.

“I’ll stay up here with Zevran, five of us in that room is too many. Will one of you get us when you’re done?” Vic said softly.

Anders nodded, then turned and led the way back towards the cabin.

Zevran leaned against the rail as Invictus watched the three men go, and let his gaze drop to the deck. As Invictus turned back towards him he lifted his head, his customary smile pasted back on again hastily. 

“You’re not fooling me anymore, what’s bothering you besides the obvious?” he asked the Antivan elf.

Zevran’s smile became a little stiff. “There is nothing you need worry about, friend Hawke,” he said lightly.

“If we are going to travel together, then yes, I do need to worry about it. Solona has already made things pretty fucking terrible on this journey. You are not as aloof as you’d like to pretend. I’ve been with Fenris too long to misread signs of avoidance.”

Zevran let the smile drop as he slumped against the rail and sighed. “It is Solona that is the problem,” he finally admitted as he stared at the toes of his polished black boots.

“I will listen if you need to speak.” Vic offered.

Zevran sighed and turned to lean on the rail, looking out across the sea. “When I heard she was dead, I wanted to die as well. I took stupid risks. Pulled off the craziest fool missions that should have killed me a hundred times over. I was trying to die. This endeavour to rescue Isabela... I truly thought that this time, I would finally do it. End my life in a way that would make my death meaningful. And then I find that Solona was alive all along.” He glanced at Invictus.

“And she is not the woman she was. This Solona... she is almost a stranger to me. And I love her, and yet I fear her. She will ask me to return with her when Isabela is free... and I do not know what I shall do.”

“If she asked you when we arrive on shore, what would you wish? I do not like this woman, the legend is much better memory than who she turned out to be.” Vic said quietly.

“She nearly killed Fenris - my _carissimi_ , the one who gave me reason to live when I thought I had none,” answered Zevran. “Can I trust such a woman? And yet... my heart, it is heavy, friend Hawke.”

“I would run far away from someone so prone to fits of temper.” Vic said softly. “I know pot meet kettle, but she seemed to have no remorse for what she’s done. I know what I’d choose but I am not you.”

Zevran leaned back against the rail and tilted his head back, staring up at the sky without really seeing it as he sighed. “I do not know,” he said finally after a long pause. “Maybe I need to start finding reasons for living that do not rely on the hearts of others. Life was so much simpler before I ever felt love.” He smiled ruefully. “When first I met Solona, I was trying to kill her. Not very hard, I should add; she was actually supposed to kill me. I never thought I would fall in love with the woman who spared my life.”

“What made you fall in love with her? If you wish to speak of it that is.” Vic added hastily. He wasn’t sure why Zevran was being so candid, but he wouldn’t fritter away his trust.

Zevran shrugged. “I have never told another soul, but sometimes one grows weary of holding everything inside in silence.” He glanced to Invictus. “But if you are willing to listen, it would perhaps lessen the burden.”

“I’m here, and I would hear your story.” Vic slumped forward a bit more and stared at the water. “Having someone there, someone to listen even if it’s just to know you are being heard can help.”

“There was... a woman,” said Zevran slowly, staring at his boots once more. “A fellow Crow. I came to... care for her, very much. She assured me she felt the same. But another Crow persuaded me that she had played me false, that she was planning to betray us. I believed him. I was ordered to kill her, and she died with my knife in her heart, still protesting her innocence.” He fell silent a moment, then shook his head. “She _was_ innocent. It was our fellow Crow who had betrayed us both.” He drew a deep breath. “There was an assignment offered, to kill the Warden. It was a sure deathtrap. I took the assignment gladly, and looked forward to dying at the Warden’s hands. Yet... she spared me, and asked me to join her. I had nothing to live for, so I went.”

Zevran ran a hand slowly through his hair and exhaled. “What made me fall in love with her? I do not know. Her fire, her drive, the spark of life in her - all this and more. There was a tenderness in her at times, and ah, the lovemaking...!” He laughed. “She was magnificent, in bed and out. Men followed her command, willingly, gladly; they would die for her, and I first among them. And yes, in spite of myself, I fell in love with her.” He smiled ruefully before his face grew sombre. 

“And then... she abandoned me. She let me think her dead. My reason for living was gone. And now she has returned to me, I find she is not the woman I thought I knew. She is hard where before she was tender, her voice harsh where before it was sweet. The love I thought I knew... I look in Solona’s eyes and I wonder if I dreamed it all. And yet when she calls me _mi Amatus_....” He closed his eyes as a pained look crossed his face.

“What does that mean? Is it more...serious, than what you call Fenris?” Vic asked as neutrally as he could.

“It means, ‘my Beloved’, ‘my heart’. It is the equal of _carissimi_ ,” answered Zevran quietly, his eyes still closed. “Fenris is only the third I have ever called _carissimi_. And Solona is only the second to ever call me _mi Amatus_.”

“I see.” Vic replied softly. “Is there anything I can do? Other than listen I mean. It seems that Nathaniel is keeping her on a tight leash for now, but who knows what will happen when we make land or if Fenris remembers what happened.” the Champion straightened up and stretched the kinks out of his back with a groan.

Zevran smiled sadly. “I fear not, but it does help a little to know that there is one willing to listen,” he said. “I have never shared any of this with another mortal soul, and perhaps it has helped simply to speak it aloud. I pray Fenris does not remember. I have nightmares enough for the two of us.” He looked down a moment then up at Invictus. “Hawke, I know Fenris does not feel for me quite as I do about him. I know that what he and I have is nothing compared to the love between he and you, and the love he has for Anders. I know, also, that it has not been easy for you to see the affection between us. But thank you for your forbearance - and for being generous enough of heart to listen to me. It would have been easy for you to walk away and ignore my misery, and I would have not thought any the less of you for it.”

“Maybe I’ve finally learned to stop being such a selfish asshole.” Vic said without thinking then winced. “Sorry, you’re welcome Zevran. I cannot deny Fenris anything, I just hope this all comes to a better end than we expect. Perhaps you should speak of these things to him as well, if you want to that is.” Invictus said quietly as he turned to face the Antivan elf.

“Perhaps,” said Zevran as he lowered his gaze. “I would not wish him to feel guilt for not being able to return my love fully. He is enamoured of me, yes, fond in his own way - but I am not his reason for living, and in truth I would not wish such a burden on anyone. I have complicated his life enough, I fear. He is worried about Anders, distressed by Nakusa, and terrified by the prospect of what awaits us in Seheron. I would not add my own troubles to that.”

“Hmm, possibly. But he is a direct man, and hates secrets. You know yourself well enough Zevran to decide what is best, but know he is not simply content to let things happen to him.” Vic spoke quietly then seemed to come to a decision before he spoke. “If you remain in Kirkwall, or visit once this is done, I will not object to your continued...relationship with Fenris. But that’s only if he wishes it and Anders does not object.” 

Zevran lifted his head, a look of faint surprise on his face, and then he smiled faintly and gave Invictus a courtly bow. “My most humble thanks, friend Hawke. Should I survive our adventure and should Fenris wish it, then I would like to... explore matters further.” His smile twisted slightly. “My survival is by no means assured however.” He shrugged. “This whole matter may be moot a week from now.”

“Do not dig yourself an early grave. Not until that moment is upon you.” Vic said as he gazed past Zevran’s shoulder and towards the cabin. “I wonder what’s going on, it’s been a while.” he muttered.

“Perhaps you should go and check on them?” suggested Zevran.

“Alright, I’ll see you out later.” with that he pushed off the rail and headed down to their room. 

Zevran turned and stared out to sea once more. “Dig my own grave?” he mused softly to himself, thinking on Invictus’ words. “Ah, but perhaps I must. No-one digs graves for men like me, my friend. We must make our own.”

He stared at the waves and found no answers in the sea’s soft song.

**

“Fenris, Anders...Nakusa?” Vic called. 

There was silence from the cabin, though the door was unlocked when he tried the handle. He entered to find Anders lying sprawled on his back across one of the bunks, whilst Fenris was talking in a low, soothing voice to Nakusa who was crouched on another, his back against the cabin wall. The scarred elf seemed reasonably calm; both elves glanced up as he entered.

“Hi, it’s been a while so we were wondering if you were alright. Is Anders alright, why is he laid out like that?” Vic asked worriedly.

“The healing went well, but he complained of feeling dizzy,” responded Fenris. “Possibly he overtaxed himself. I did tell him to eat earlier.” The elf shook his head with a look of fond exasperation. “I believe he is merely sleeping.”

“Alright. Fenris, perhaps you could go and check on Zevran? He’s ...he could use a friend right now.” Vic demurred as he sat with Anders.

Fenris frowned a little as he stood up. “Is he alright? Did Solona....” He broke off then nodded. “I’ll go find him. Nakusa...?”

“I shall stay here,” said the other elf, then glanced to Invictus. “If... if I may?”

“Of course, you should rest as well.” Fenris replied before he headed to the doorway. He turned and gave Invictus a soft smile. “Thank you.”

Anders murmured something in his sleep then rolled onto his side, flinging an arm around Invictus’ waist. Nakusa stared and giggled then looked mortified, as though he’d been caught doing something wrong.

“It’s alright, he’s...touchy when awake or asleep. Go on and rest, I’m going to fall asleep myself.” Vic said tiredly as he rolled over to face Anders as he got comfortable.

Anders was mumbling something in his sleep; Invictus couldn’t make out anything coherent except for the words “singing” and “no”.

“Love?” Vic murmured softly, but he expected no answer.

“Make him go away,” slurred Anders, his eyes closed. “Don’ want... want to listen... singing....” His voice trailed off into inarticulate murmurs. 

Invictus kissed him and curled against him, muttered nonsense in the blond mages ear as he drifted off to sleep as well.

**

Fenris found Zevran leaned against the rails of the ship, quiet as he stared off at the dark waves. 

“Zevran? What’s wrong, Vic said you needed a friend,” the taller elf asked as he joined the former Crow in watching the waves.

“Did he now?” Zevran smiled a little sadly to himself. 

“He did, he seemed...almost subdued when he came into the room to check on us.” Fenris leaned against the other elf and let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d held in. “If you wish to talk, I will listen.” 

Zevran slipped an arm around the warrior’s waist and let his head drop to rest against Fenris’ shoulder before giving a small sigh.

“I am torn, _carissimi_ ,” he said softly. “My heart is aching and heavy, and I do not know what lies ahead.” 

Fenris leaned his cheek against the other elf’s head and held him close. “You wish your Warden back, but she is not who you remember her to be? Or you don’t know what to do with me with her restored to you?” the taller elf queried him quietly.

Zevran quietly groaned. “As ever you strike to the quick, _mi amor_ ,” he said with a sigh. “Solona has returned but this Solona... I do not know her. And yet when I look upon her... my heart quickens and I want... _need_ her. Yet she is not the woman I thought I knew. And my heart... it is torn in two, _carissimi_. I would go with you to the ends of the earth and beyond at a word.” 

He lifted his head slowly to look into Fenris’ eyes. “I think I would die for you, my heart. And yet I know you do not, cannot feel the same way. That you care for me, this I know - but if I died this moment, you would grieve yet go on. Should Hawke die - ah, then I think your world would come crashing down, no? But you... if you died... I do not think Solona would be reason enough for me to desire living.” He groaned and hung his head. “I am at once the most fortunate and yet most unhappy of men, _carissimi_.”

Fenris carded his fingers through the other elf’s hair and hummed quietly as he considered what to say. “I would rather not think of Hawke’s death, nor yours or Anders to be honest.” he murmured.

“I would go on, but not easily. You’ve worked your way into my heart but this is complicated. I’d never thought I’d have room in my heart for one man, let alone three and two of them mages as well.” 

“I do not know what to do,” confessed Zevran, his voice soft and sad. “All certainty is gone.”

“Must you decide right now? Or do you think speaking with Nathaniel or Anders would help? Nathaniel has been with her all this time,he would know what has caused her to change hopefully.” Fenris sighed and held the other elf closer to him. “I guess you would know what would make your heart full, but does the thought of being with her now make you happy or fill you with fear? Forget me for the moment, she was your reason for living and dying before, does it still feel the same way?” 

Zevran held still for a moment, allowing himself to be held, his head lowered. Then finally he sighed again. “It... does not,” he admitted. “I still love her, but I also fear her. Yet... if I had not met you, _mi amor_ , and found a new reason for living... I think I would still have followed her gladly. And part of me wishes I could, even though I have seen what she is capable of. And after all, she has betrayed me once. There is nothing to stop her doing so again.”

The Antivan elf groaned, a heartfelt sound of distress. “Each time I have given my heart to someone, it has been ripped from me bloodily. If each death upon my hands has stolen a piece of my soul then so, too, has each heart I have loved. There will be nothing left of me soon.”

“I am sorry if I have caused you such pains. I...I do not know what will happen once we have gotten Isabela back.” Fenris admitted.

Zevran straightened slowly, his face drawn and weary. “I cannot see beyond that day, _carissimi_ ,” he said quietly. “All paths are dark now, and I cannot dream of a future beyond the now.”

“When things are settled we can speak again. I would not see you fall down such a dark road if I can help it.” Fenris kissed him gently before he pulled back. “Come, we should both sleep and try to settle ourselves. If you wish I will lie with you.”

Zevran nodded. “I would like that very much indeed, _carissimi_.”

“Alright.” Fenris took his hand and led him back to the cabins, his heart a bit heavier as he went. 

Invictus and Anders were fast asleep, the blond apostate curled up against Invictus as though he were cold although the cabin was warm - almost stuffily so. Nakusa had fallen asleep sitting upright upon his bunk, his back resting against the cabin wall, his white-streaked red hair falling over his face.

Fenris pulled Zevran into the remaining empty bunk and curled around the other elf to keep him warm and let him know he was safe. “Rest, I’ll be here.” 

Zevran pressed a hand flat against Fenris’ chest so he could feel the other elf’s heart beating. “I am sorry to have laid the burdens of my own heart upon you, _mi amor_ ,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to the raven-black hair.

“It’s alright, I’ve done my fair share of that in my life. More than time to return the favor.” Fenris mumbled as his eyes closed and his free hand drifted back up to caress the other elf’s scalp. “I’ll be glad when this dark colour grows out, I tire of it already.”

“There may be something I can do about it when we reach Seheron,” murmured Zevran, inclining his head into the touch with a soft purr that turned into a low, throaty moan as Fenris’ fingers trailed idly along the shell of his ear then trailed up to the pointed tip.

“You purr like a cat.” Fenris muttered as his fingers touched Zevran in spots he knew the elf liked. “They accuse me of doing it as well.” 

“You do,” Anders’ voice slurred sleepily from the other bunk as he lifted his head briefly to stare in their direction for a moment before his head dropped back down to rest upon Invictus’ chest.

Fenris laughed as he continued to stroke Zevran’s ears and head like he was an overgrown cat. “He can hear me speaking softly across the room, but I can’t wake him from a sound sleep half the time.” 

“Was dozing,” mumbled Anders. “Bad dream. You two came back in as I was drifting off again.”

Zevran sat up, with an apologetic glance at Fenris. “Warden dreams?” he guessed.

“Kind of,” agreed Anders. “At least I don’t seem to have screamed myself awake for once. Invictus is still out for the count.”

“As you should try to be,” replied the Antivan as he lay down again.

“I would be, but there’s this pair of big cats in the next bunk....” They could hear the smile in Anders’ voice.

“Not a cat.” Fenris muttered as he sat up and rubbed at his face. “We did not mean to keep you up love.” he said softly.

Anders shrugged as he tried to get comfortable; his shoulder had stiffened as he slept. “I’ll be OK,” he said diffidently. “Or would if I could get comfy. Invictus is hogging most of the bed I think. _And_ the blankets,” he added pointedly.

“It is not cold,” observed Zevran with a faint frown.

“Not the point,” muttered Anders as he stretched out and tried to find a new position that didn’t strain his healing shoulder.

Fenris tugged the blankets over both of them then nudged at Invictus as he would have done at home. Their lover muttered something and gave up more space in the bunk without waking.

“There, you should have more space now.” the Tevinter elf said as he crawled back into bed with Zevran.

“Thank you love,” replied Anders gratefully as he tugged the blanket over his shoulder and snuggled down, closing his eyes.

Zevran gave Fenris a fond look and kissed the end of his nose with a small smile. “Let us all sleep,” he said softly.

“Yes, I have a feeling we are going to need all the rest we can get.” the other elf said before he curled around Zevran and continued to stroke his ears as he fell asleep. The Antivan’s contented rumble slowly died away as he, too, slipped into dreams.

**

Nathaniel woke them all shortly after dawn, nudging each in turn through the blankets. He had brought mugs of steaming tea. 

“We’ll be making port on Seheron by nightfall,” he said as he passed a mug to Nakusa, who blinked then accepted it, staring at it curiously. “It’s OK, you can drink it,” the warden added to the elf.

Fenris took the tea without comment, he was still half-awake and didn’t want to be up yet. He ignored the information that they’d be back to that place by night. He’d deal with it when they landed.

Vic sipped his tea as he watched Nathaniel take up a spot with his own mug. “I hope we can get off the ship with little to no hassle. How tight is security?” he asked.

“Pretty chaotic, according to the sailors I spoke to earlier,” replied Nathaniel as he leaned back against the cabin wall and stretched his legs out on the bunk next to Nakusa. “The Archon has been offering financial incentives to citizens seeking to reclaim their estates on Seheron and help drive out the Qunari, but at the same time there’s a steady stream of refugees seeking to flee back to Tevinter. The docks will be a noisy mess of people coming and going; we should have no trouble slipping through.” He glanced over at the sleeping apostate. “Someone should wake up Anders,” he remarked.

Invictus reached over and nudged at the blond. “Wake up, Nathaniel brought tea and we all should get washed up and eat something.” 

Anders muttered something that sounded like “Another five minutes, Karl,” then grunted, not lifting his head from beneath the blankets.

Fenris handed his mug to Zevran, went over and trailed his nails over the sole of Anders’ foot that dangled over the foot of the bed. “Wake up love.”

Anders’ foot jerked back under the blankets and he yelled, twisting around in the bed to sit up with a startled look. His hair was a tousled bird’s-nest and his eyes were bleary from sleep.

“No fair,” he groused as Nakusa handed him a mug of tea.

“Would you rather I doused you with cold water?” Fenris asked as he sat next to Zevran and took his mug back.

“Why do all your suggestions always have to be so uncomfortable for me?” protested Anders. 

“Don’t be so grumpy, you have tea and if you sit down here I’ll work on your hair.” Invictus parted his legs so Anders could settle on the floor while he worked on the messy blond hair. Anders submitted quite happily to Invictus’ hands, closing his eyes as he sipped his tea.

“So what’s the plan once we dock?” Vic asked as he worked to untangle and comb the other mage’s hair into one smooth braid that would keep it out of his face.

Nathaniel shrugged. “Well, that part is more or less up to you,” he said. “I don’t think you really want Solona along with you on your mission, and we have our own mission to deal with. Whilst I think she had some idea about drafting Anders-”

Anders’ eyes flew open and he lurched forward, only to be checked by Invictus’ hand tightening warningly on his good shoulder as Nathaniel carried on.

“- I think we can all see that’s not going to happen,” the archer continued. “Nor is she going to whisk Zevran off whilst he has other business here. We’ll conclude our business, but we can stay on Seheron for a little while afterwards depending on how our mission goes should you require assistance.”

“I don’t think I want any more of my cousin’s ‘assistance’. She’s done enough.” Vic said angrily as he relaxed his grip on Anders.

“It’s Zevran’s call, after all we’re here on his information.” Fenris said quietly.

“I’m not going back. I’m never going back,” said Anders fiercely, his breath quickening though he didn’t move from his place at Invictus’ feet. “She’s not going to have me, she can’t make me, you hear?”

“Easy, Anders,” said Nathaniel, lifting a hand. “No-one’s making you go anywhere.”

“Our path... is not Solona’s path,” said Zevran slowly. “I have an oath to fulfill.”

Nathaniel inclined his head. “Should you have need of my assistance after Grey Warden business is done, my bow is at your command,” he said quietly. Zevran nodded his thanks.

Fenris didn’t react, he simply finished his tea then got up to rummage for his soap and a towel from his pack. “If you don’t mind, I’ll get my bath out of the way first.” 

“Go on love, I’ll be in the Galley when you’re done if you want breakfast.” Vic said as he watched Fenris move around the cabin.

Anders curled both hands around his mug as he hunched over between Invictus’ feet, his knees drawn up towards his chest, still looking unsettled, a grimly determined look on his face as he quietly muttered under his breath to himself.

“Stop that, no point in cursing someone who isn’t even here. Let’s get you fed and then I’m getting a bath.” Vic said gently as he rubbed the back of Anders neck with his thumbs. 

“Nakusa, you can come with us if you wish, unless you wanted to wait for Fenris.” Vic offered.

"I will wait," answered the scarred elf.

Anders flinched, though whether from Invictus' words or touch it wasn't clear.

"I need air," he blurted as he leapt to his feet and bolted from the cabin.

“What did I say? I was talking about…” Vic’s words fell short as the door slammed. “Oh fuck, I meant Solona, he must have meant Justice.”

“Andraste’s tits,” Nathaniel groaned as he got to his feet. “Want me to go after him, or should you?”

“Let me, I put my foot in my mouth as usual. Can you take Nakusa with you to make sure he eats?” Vic said as he made for the door.

“Certainly,” nodded Nathaniel as he rose and started collecting up the empty mugs. Nakusa scrambled to his feet and hastily took the cups from Nathaniel and began gathering the rest.

Vic called out his thanks as he dashed out to find Anders on the deck. He approached cautiously, and called out as he made his way over to the other mage. “Love...I’m sorry, I didn’t think. I thought you were muttering about Solona, but you weren’t were you?”

Anders turned from the rail and glanced towards him. His eyes were red but dry. “I didn’t even realise I was doing it,” he said quietly. “I’m just so used to talking to him.” His knuckles whitened on the rail as he swallowed hard. “You have no idea what it’s like... the emptiness inside. Sometimes I can forget it for a while - pretend he’s just being quiet. He would do that sometimes, you know - I knew he was there but he’d just... sort of lurk, silent, content to just let me ramble to myself. I do that sometimes anyway - just ramble to myself. Force of habit. Something I picked up in that year in solitary perhaps. Most of the time I’m not even aware I’m doing it.” He was aware he was rambling now, but he couldn’t help it. “I just really didn’t need to be reminded right then that he... he’s gone. I’d... I’d forgotten, for a little while. And ... and... I want to forget again. I wish I could.” His voice trailed off and then his shoulders slumped. “I miss him again.”

Vic pulled the blond into his arms and held him close. “I’m sorry, I wish I could help.” Invictus curled his fingers against the nape of Anders neck and gently massaged him. “One day I’ll learn to stop being so fucking careless. I’m sorry I hurt you love.”

“I hear whispers sometimes,” said Anders quietly. “Promising they can bring him back. They’re all around me, asking me to let them in.”

“Don’t, you know that will only lead to ruin and a one way road to your death if a demon gets a hold of you.” Vic replied.

“I know,” replied Anders. “I won’t listen. It’s been worse as we crossed Tevinter; all the blood magic here attracts them like flies to rotten meat. Sometimes it’s been all I can do to keep myself together whilst holding up the illusion on Fenris. But I won’t give in. I didn’t give in when I was Harrowed at fifteen, and I won’t give in now.”

“I know, you fought off three demons in your sleep after a hard battle. I doubt I could have done that. You’re stronger than they are you know that. I won’t let you fall love, I won’t.” Vic said, his voice rough.

“Sometimes I’m tired of always having to be strong,” admitted Anders. “Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to just lie down and give up. But I can’t. I won’t. I have to keep going, don’t I?”

“Yes, and I hope once we’re out of here you won’t have them constantly harping on your mind.” Vic tilted his head up to gently kiss his apostate lover. “We’re at your side, we won’t let you fall, you hear me?”

“I hear you,” breathed Anders quietly. He slipped his arms around Invictus’ neck and returned the kiss, tentatively at first and then firmer, a little needy moan escaping as he exhaled.

“Is that what you need love? To not think for a while, I don’t want to mess up again if I can help it,” Vic said as he pulled back a bit for breath.

Anders drew a breath as his eyes fluttered open. “I want to, but I can wait until we’re off this damned boat and away from Solona,” he replied in a low voice. “She’s on deck here somewhere, and frankly I want to be as far away from her as possible. I don’t trust her. Not any more.”

“As you wish. Let’s get breakfast and then cleaned up so we can get ready to leave this damned ship.” Vic kissed him one last time before he offered Anders his hand so they could show his cousin that Anders was no longer hers.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Invictus thought he got off easy by not fighting the Qunari years ago in Kirkwall. Time to make up for that lost opportunity. Anders hates crowds, Solona can't take a hint, and Nakusa is a little too happy to wade into the fray.

The dock was crowded. Even as the ship slowly drifted towards her berth, the travellers could hear the throng, the susurrus of several thousand voices carrying over the water.

Solona was hissing angrily into Zevran’s ear, but the elf ignored her, staring out over the water at the crowded shore. Nathaniel had deftly placed himself between the irate Warden and Anders, who stared at the crowd with trepidation.

Fenris scowled and nudged at Invictus’ side to get his attention. “What is going on? Perhaps we should get off this boat and get Anders away from her sooner than later?” he whispered in his lover’s ear.

Nakusa seemed unfazed by the busy crowd that awaited them on shore; or perhaps he was merely stoic, the mask of a slave obscuring his feelings upon beholding such a vast number of people all in one place. It was hard to say. His blue eyes betrayed no emotion as he stared at the dock.

“Seems she’s trying to talk to Zevran but he’s not having it. Let’s get off this boat.” Vic replied quietly as he moved forward and looped an arm with Anders. 

“Ready to get back on land love?” he asked the ex-warden.

Anders nodded slowly. “That’s... a lot of people,” he remarked quietly.

“We’re with you love, it’s alright.” Vic said as he slipped behind Anders and saw Fenris take up the front position as he tugged Nakusa over with him.

“We’ll move quickly to get off this thing and get away from the ship. Grab hold of me if you need to.” Fenris murmured.

As the ship came to a halt, the sailors moved into position, throwing lines down to the dockhands as they made fast the ship, stowing lines, bringing cargo up on board and getting ready to run out the gangplank. Nathaniel shifted to one side to get out of the way of the crew.

Zevran finally pulled away from Solona with a brief, terse word that they couldn’t make out above the din of the docks and came over to stand with the others. Solona glared at him.

“Not looking forward to this,” murmured Anders, his voice barely audible even to Invictus and Fenris above the hubbub as his grip tightened upon his staff.

“Neither am I,” Fenris replied as he nodded to Zevran, shouldered his pack and hoped he did not fall apart once they found a place to rest for the night. “Let’s go.”

The gangplank was lowered and the first mate waved them off as crew members raced down and had to start beating back a surge of people who pushed towards the ship. Men and women, many in magister’s robes, shouted and waved to the crew urgently, many waving documents or bags of gold.

“They’re all eager to shake Seheron dust off their heels and run back to Tevinter with their tails between their legs,” muttered the first mate with a shake of his head.

“I’ll be just as eager to get back to Kirkwall.” Vic murmured as he hurried down and past the crowds vying to buy their way off the island. Once they were clear of the crowds immediately by the ship, he pulled his group to the side and looked to Zevran. “We’re here now, what’s the plan?”

Zevran glanced round; they were in a small space near stacks of cargo waiting to be loaded. The whole dock area was a heavy mass of people wherever he looked, and he could barely hear Invictus over the cacophony.

“We have to get clear of these people, but it will not be easy,” he called back. “Stay close together and be wary - this crowd will have drawn every pickpocket and thief in the city to such easy pickings.” He climbed up on a crate to get a better view over the heads of the crowd. “That way,” he decided, pointing towards a section of the crowd that seemed thinner than elsewhere.

“Thinner” being a relative term; they had to force their way through, buffeted and jostled on all sides as they pushed against the flow of people trying to get to the quayside. Anders’ hand gripped tight onto Invictus as they were hemmed in on all sides. He called out something to the other mage but it was lost in the roar of voices all around them. The blond apostate’s eyes held a wild look as he stared at the Champion.

A group of people barged into them and suddenly Anders’ hand was wrenched free from Invictus’ arm and they were driven apart.

“Anders!” Vic lunged for him and got a grip on the blond mage. He was thankful Anders was tall enough to pick from the crowd. 

Fenris snarled at people jostled him as they tried to get past their group. “I swear next person who touches me is losing a hand.” he said under his breath.

Zevran had his arm around Nakusa’s shoulders as he tried to shield the scarred elf from the worst of the crowd. He glanced back at Invictus with a worried look.

“Where’s Solona?” shouted Nathaniel as he glanced round. “Solona? _Solona!!_ ”

“Got to get out of here,” panted Anders. “Too many people.”

Invictus looked around until he spotted a path that led away from the throngs of people. “That way, go down that path.” he shouted to the others. 

“I can’t see Solona!” yelled Nathaniel desperately as he cast around in vain for the slender dark-haired mage, even as Zevran determinedly began to force himself through the nearest throng of people towards the opening Invictus had spotted, unable to see it himself but trusting to the taller man to point out the way.

As the people parted in front of them, Anders broke free of Invictus to run after Zevran just as another group of people surged in front of Invictus. There was confusion as Anders was caught in the middle; Invictus saw the blond mage turn back towards him, and then Anders gave a startled yell as he went down.

“Anders!” Fenris said as he heard the mage’s cry. “Vic! Stop, stop. Anders...he’s down.” Fenris looked around for a flash of blond hair, listened for the mage’s voice. “Anders, where are you?”

There was no sign of the blond apostate; if he cried out, it was lost beneath the shouts of the crowd. 

Fenris looked around in desperation. “Nathaniel? can you sense him?” he begged the archer as he came over him.

“What?” The archer stared at Fenris, distracted. “i was looking for Solona - wait, Anders is missing as well?”

Fenris’ eyes narrowed. “How convenient that Solona should vanish at the same time as Anders,” he hissed.

“Wait - you don’t think Solona had anything to - “ Nathaniel broke off and groaned. “Yes. She would, wouldn’t she? Hold on.” He closed his eyes and concentrated, focusing on the faint unclean, crawling sensation in the back of his mind that was ever present around another Warden or darkspawn. It took an effort of conscious will, but he was able to pick out the two different sensations - one that was unmistakably Solona, and the other that was the once-familiar feel of Anders. 

He blinked. Something about the feel of Anders was somehow strange; much stronger than he'd expected. He hadn't noticed it before when they'd all been in such close proximity; he'd put the intensity down to having to share such close quarters with the other Wardens, but out here in the open air and with so many people in the way, he was surprised at how clearly he could feel Anders. Not for the first time, he wondered what exactly had happened to the blond apostate since he fled Vigil's Keep. It would have to wait however.

“That way,” he said, gesturing towards the thickest part of the crowd. Fenris groaned.

**

The surge of people had taken Anders by surprise. He turned back towards Invictus but someone slammed into his back. His feet were swept out from beneath him and he fell heavily. He wrapped his arms defensively around his head and curled in on himself as the crowd surged around him. He heard Invictus shout his name and opened his mouth to call back just as a booted foot impacted with his injured shoulder. Something _crunched_ and he screamed as everything whited out for a moment.

He clutched at his shoulder with his good hand and managed to roll over onto his knees, gritting his teeth as every movement hurt. He cried out as someone stumbled into him and kicked his ribs.

Someone took hold of his uninjured wrist and tugged. He was being dragged upright by someone small and lithe, who tugged his arm across their shoulders and slipped a hand around his waist before starting to help him through the crowd. He didn’t know where he was or where he was going, and right now he didn’t care; his body felt like a mass of bruises and his shoulder was aflame with pain. His left arm hung uselessly by his side. He had no idea where his staff had got to; he’d dropped it when he fell.

He stumbled through the throng, hemmed in on all sides, grateful for the slender yet strong arm around his waist and the shoulder to lean on. He glanced to the side, dazed.

“Solona?” he breathed, but the Warden couldn’t hear him over the noise of the crowd.

He ought to feel worried, he supposed, but he was in too much pain and the noise of the crowd was disorienting him. He needed to get away; he’d never seen so many people in one place at one time save once, and that was in the throng of battle - and he hadn’t been right in the thick of it then. It was overwhelming. He couldn’t think straight, assailed by noise and smell all around - unwashed bodies, exotic spices and scented oils, a waft of lyrium from a nearby magister - and overlaid on all, the stench of fear. These were desperate people, trying to get away from something - or someone.

He didn’t trust Solona, but right now she was a source of strength and purpose in a restless, shifting sea of humanity that didn’t care if he drifted with their tide or drowned beneath their feet. He let her drag him through the crowd, his head low, eyes half-closed as he concentrated through the waves of pain and nausea on putting one foot in front of the other and left direction and purpose to the Warden. He had no idea where any of the others were.

He gradually became aware he was being buffeted less, people pressing less closely all around him, and he managed to lift his head to glance round.

“Nearly out of the crowd,” said Solona, and he realised he could actually hear her.

“Where are we going?” he asked dazedly.

“There’s an inn not far from here,” replied Solona. “We’ll take a room and I can take a look at your shoulder.”

“Does Nathaniel know about the inn?” asked Anders. Solona nodded.

“It’s one of three we discussed staying in. We planned to stay here in Alam for a few days to gather intelligence on recent Qunari movements before making our move,” she answered. “I’m guessing the Qunari have raided one of the nearby towns. The Archon’s resettlement plan isn’t working, it seems.”

“The others will be able to find us then,” said Anders, relieved. Solona hummed noncommittally.

“This way,” she said. “Not much further.”

The innkeeper seemed to be expecting her. “Bad timing,” he told her.

“What’s happened?” she asked as the innkeeper fished out a key and gestured for her to follow up the stairs.

“Nastrantium fell three days ago to the Qunari,” replied the innkeeper. “The refugees started streaming in a day later. Nastrantium’s been put to the torch and the Qunari are on the move. Everyone’s saying Alam is next.”

“That’s why the docks were packed then?” guessed Solona.

“Aye, everyone with any sense is getting off Seheron as fast as they can find a ship to take them. I’ve heard tales of magisters abandoning slaves on the quayside and taking ship with just the clothes on their back and what gold they can carry. You’re lucky you managed to get in.” He eyed Anders as he opened a door and gestured for them to enter.

Solona helped the blond apostate over to the bed and he lay down upon his stomach with a low groan as the Warden ushered the innkeeper back towards the door, barely noticing as she quietly bade him let no-one disturb them.

“My companion was injured and he needs rest,” she said in a low voice. “We will need supper sent up later.”

“I’ll see to it no-one disturbs you,” nodded the innkeeper.

Solona locked the door behind her then turned back towards the bed.

“Let’s get you comfortable and have a look at that shoulder,” she said. She reached for Anders’ feathered coat with a proprietorial look. Anders was oblivious, lying face-down on the bed.

“I just need a little while to rest and then I can probably heal myself,” he said, drawing in his breath with a hiss as she carefully drew the jacket off over his injured shoulder.

“Can you move your left arm at all?” she asked him.

“Not without a lot of pain,” he admitted. “I felt something give inside.”

Solona got up and rifled through her backpack, producing a couple of healing potions, a vial of lyrium and a healing kit. “Let’s get that shirt off so I can see properly,” she said, handing him the healing potion.

He downed the potion and then she helped him slip the shirt off. She drew her breath in with a sharp hiss at the mottled bruising over his ribs and down his back; his shoulder was a mess, marred by ugly bruising. The stitches had torn and the wound reopened. She opened the kit and began cleaning him up.

“Almost like old times, isn’t it?” she remarked conversationally as she worked.

“Almost,” agreed Anders, his voice wistful.

She cleaned the wound gently, her fingers light and delicate as she dabbed at the blood then let healing magic flow into the wound soothingly. “I’ve missed you,” she said gently. “We all have - Nathaniel, Velanna, Sigrun. Even Oghren, though he won’t admit it,” she added. “You had a home with us, Anders. You could again.”

“I had a home until you abandoned me and let the templars in,” growled Anders. “We’ve been over this before. You abandoned me, Solona, and it was nearly the death of me.”

She was quiet for a moment, her fingers gentle over his skin as she placed a clean dressing over the wound. “There will be no more templars, Anders. I made a terrible mistake, one that you should never have paid for. Let me put things right.”

“Why, so you can betray me in some other way?” he asked, the note of pain in his voice only partially due to his injuries.

“No more betrayals, Anders,” said Solona softly. “I promise. No templars, no more abandonment.” She wound a soft bandage around his arm and ribs, swathing the bruises in soft white linen before helping him to slip his shirt back on.

“What do you want, Solona?” he asked as he turned to face her.

“I need you, Anders,” she replied simply. “This is too big for just me, and Nathaniel... he’s not a mage.”

“You haven’t told me what’s going on yet,” he remarked as she uncorked the vial of lyrium and handed it to him. He knocked it back with a grimace.

“Warden business, and you were refusing to come back,” she said sadly.

Anders sighed. “Look... let me try and heal myself up before we discuss this any further,” he said with misgivings. His curiosity was aroused in spite of himself, and Solona was behaving more like the woman he’d thought he knew once; yet he couldn’t forget how she had blasted Fenris across the room so carelessly and nearly killed him - or the templars she had let into the order that had very nearly resulted in his own demise. He couldn’t trust her - _mustn’t_ trust her. He could almost hear Fenris screaming furiously in his head, demanding to know what in the Void he was playing at even listening to her.

Fenris... he hoped Nathaniel would be able to guide the others here soon. Fenris must be going mad with worry for him, he reasoned; he had thought he heard the elf calling his name as he was curled on the ground, but over the noise and movement of the crowd he hadn’t been certain. Fenris would be hunting for him, he knew.

He shook his head and laid his hand over his shoulder, closing his eyes as he focused on the here and now and the state of his shoulder.

Solona was quiet as Anders worked on healing himself; after a moment, unbidden, she reached out to gently lay a hand over his bruised ribs and channel a little healing energy into easing his pain and lessen the contusions. The blond apostate’s eyes opened briefly and he gave her a grateful look as he returned to his healing.

As he tired, she gently helped him lay back against the pillows, still working his magic inside himself to patch himself back together. She smiled softly as she felt the stir of the Veil around them and heard the whispers of spirits come to help the spirit healer even as Anders’ hand fell away from his shoulder and he slipped into a light doze.

“Sleep, my Grey Warden,” she murmured as she rose from the bed and set about tidying away the healing kit and empty potion vials. “Once a Warden, _always_ a Warden....”

**  
Fenris dropped to his knees and screamed in frustration over losing Anders in the crowd. “We have to find them, all we have is his staff, and your warden senses. We have to get him back. What if a magister took him again?” Fenris gripped Anders’ staff in his hands as he knelt on the floor of their room.

“Love, get a hold of yourself. If you don’t calm down you won’t be any good to him when we do find him.” Invictus said as he tried to approach the furious elf.

Nathaniel exhaled through his nose as he ran a hand through his dark hair. “There are two other inns we can try,” he said. “Solona and I had three different ones in mind when we set out; we have contacts in all three, and we were going to decide which one to stay in when we got here depending on what we found here. The keeper here is friendly towards Grey Wardens, as are the other two. Wherever Anders is, he’s with Solona, I’d stake my life on it.”

“Then get out there and find him.” Fenris snarled as he stood and strapped Anders’ staff to the harness on his back. “She took him and I want him back with us, safe and sound.” 

“Easy, _carissimi_ ,” said Zevran. He knew better than to try touching Fenris when the warrior was in this mood, but he stood as near as he dared. “There is great unrest in the streets; they throng with refugees, and their numbers are increasing even though night is falling. They will be seeking every available place of shelter they can find. Something is very wrong here.”

Nathaniel nodded. “Zevran’s right. I’m going to go talk to the innkeeper and see if I can find out what’s going on, and then I’ll see how far I can get through the streets. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Don’t come back without him.” Fenris snapped. His temper was frayed and it wouldn’t take much to make the elf lose control of himself. Nakusa had gradually inched further and further away from him as Fenris’ demeanor had steadily deteriorated and was currently pressing himself into the corner, eyes averted. 

“I will do what I can,” sighed Nathaniel as he tossed his backpack at the foot of the nearest bunk then loosened his sword in its sheath. He nodded to Invictus then Zevran before letting himself out.

Invictus knew better than to approach his lover but he didn’t want him terrifying Nakusa any further either. “Love, will you please sit with us, maybe calm yourself a little before Nakusa tries to meld into the wall.”

Nakusa froze at mention of his name, staring at the floor.

Zevran held his place, watching Fenris carefully. “We will find him, _mi amor_ ,” he said gently. “It is only a matter of time.”

“Not now Zevran. Do not coddle me, do not give me false assurances.” Fenris growled as he turned on the other elf. “ _She_ took him and who knows what she’s doing to him as we twiddle our thumbs going over maybes and what if’s.” his voice had dropped to a cold, harsh shadow of his usual rich, rumbling bass. 

Vic edged over by Nakusa and nudged the elf. “Sit down, you’re not in trouble. He’s just upset.”

Zevran did not flinch as Fenris turned his ire upon him. “If Solona has taken Anders, it is because she has a use for him,” he said quietly. “She will do nothing that might impair his use to her.”

“Like she did to me? I know something happened between us but you all are keeping it from me. I can’t remember and it’s driving me mad. I don’t trust her not to take him and run with him, because she can use him. That’s what she does isn’t it?” Fenris said as he stared down the shorter Antivan elf.

Zevran frowned slightly. “She will not torture him, Fenris,” he said with a faintly quizzical tone. “Why would she?”

“I don’t know, why did she think she could order me around like a slave when we were playing at magister and pet? She wants him back and won’t stop until she’s cajoled him or forced him into returning.” Fenris’ hands were clenched into fists as he came closer to the other elf. “She will do whatever it takes, I can tell that much about her.”

“Fenris, what happened to you was an accident,” said Zevran slowly as he stared up into the enraged green eyes of the other elf. “You are letting your own fears cloud your reason. Please, _carissimi_ -” He lifted one hand to rest his fingertips lightly against Fenris’ chest.

The taller elf grabbed his wrist and pulled Zevran’s arm away sharply. “Do not touch me. Not while you stand there and excuse what ever she did to me. You saw how she’s tried to get him back ever since we ran into her. Do not tell me I am being irrational. We already had to save Anders once, from my own kin. I will not hesitate to end her if she harms him. Am I clear?” 

“Fenris! Zevran isn’t a danger, stop it.” Vic said as he approached cautiously.

“So you turn on me as well? Are you all in league together then?” Fenris said as he held Zevran’s wrist tight and pressed enough that the tips of his gauntlets nearly touched his palm.

Zevran said nothing, though sweat stood out upon his brow and his breath quickened. He gritted his teeth against the pain even as he thought he could feel the slender bones of his forearm grind together. 

“You’re breaking his arm, stop this. Love, please we aren’t the enemy.” Invictus pleaded with him.

“You would excuse her actions along with him? Anders is missing and we remain here while she could be halfway from Seheron by now.” Fenris released Zevran with an angry snarl. 

Zevran cradled his wrist and drew a slow, shuddering breath. The imprint of Fenris’ gauntleted fingers was plain upon his skin, already mottling into dark bruises. The elf cradled his arm against his chest and took a single slow step back, his eyes never leaving Fenris’ face. “Crippling me will not bring Anders back, _mi amor_ ,” he said quietly.

Fenris looked down at the other elf and cringed. “I apologize, my...temper is frayed. Forgive me Zevran.” 

Zevran nodded slowly. “I forgive you, _carissimi_. But please... try to focus. We must all be clear of thought. This city is a place of danger for all I fear, and we will need our wits about us. We cannot give in to rage or fear.”

Nakusa remained where he stood, eyes flicking from one man to another as he glanced between the three men.

“I...understand. I’m sorry, to you Invictus and you...brother.” Fenris said quietly before he sat on one of beds and tried to rein himself in.

Zevran made his way to another bed and sat down. “Friend Hawke, I know you are not a healer like our esteemed apostate, but would you...?” He gestured at his wrist with a nod of his hand.

“Sure.” Invictus replied and went to work on the other elf. 

Fenris watched quietly before he noticed Nakusa had all but folded in on himself at the table. He sat down next to the other elf and tried to get his attention. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“It is dangerous for us to lose control,” whispered Nakusa. “Bad. Very bad.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I’m in control again, it’s alright.” Fenris whispered as he pulled the other elf into his arms to calm him. “I’m sorry.”

They sat like that in silence as Invictus worked on Zevran’s wrist. They all jumped when Nathaniel suddenly burst into the room.

“The Qunari torched a town about a day’s ride from here. They’re on the march and they’ve been sighted on the hills outside the city walls,” he said breathlessly as he made his way to his backpack and started pulling out his Warden armour. “The city is under threat. The streets are full of refugees and there aren’t enough ships in the harbour to evacuate everyone.”

“Alright, you take Fenris and find Anders. Then we get the Void out of this city as soon as we can.” Invictus said. 

Fenris didn’t hesitate to get his weapon ready and head for the door. “Let’s go.”

Zevran pushed himself up off the bed and reached for his backpack, starting to pull out his leather armour. Nathaniel had already strapped on half his armour, his fingers flying as he tightened straps and buckles.

“I’ll stay here with Nakusa, in case Anders gets away or somehow winds up here. Unless we should stick together?” Vic said as he watched the three men get ready.

“The streets are packed with panicked people,” said Nathaniel. “Better if we stick together. If Anders gets away from Solona, I’ll feel it and I’ll be able to hone in on him. The sooner we have him, the sooner we can get out of the city.”

“Friend Nathaniel, I must ask - whose side are you on?” asked Zevran as he pulled on his leather vambraces and buckled them. 

“I’m a Grey Warden, first and foremost,” answered the archer. “Anders is my friend - and also a Grey Warden, whatever he may say. At the same time, I’m no longer certain Solona is necessarily putting the Grey Wardens first. I don’t know what’s going on, but right now my aim is to get Anders and then get him out of this city before the Qunari start massacring everyone in it.”

“Nakusa you heard the man, get Anders’ things and carry them and hang on to me or Fenris understand?” Vic said as he slipped into his Champion gear and strapped his staff on quickly.

Nakusa picked up the mage’s pack and slung it on his back then nodded.

“Let’s go,” said Nathaniel, and led them out.

Whatever they had been expecting from Nathaniel’s words, the reality was far worse. It was night, and the dark streets teemed with panicked people, all desperately trying to get to the docks. Refugees jostled shoulder to shoulder with citizens of the city who were hastily throwing their most valued possessions together and trying to flee before the Qunari arrived.

The five men forced their way against the flow of people, the others following Nathaniel’s lead as he headed into the city. They had to pause several times as people panicked and stampeded, leaving dead and dying in their wake, trampled underfoot.

Zevran ignored the human refuse and dying moans as they hurried across one road after the third such stampede, his eyes fixed upon Nathaniel’s back. At Invictus’ side, Nakusa seemed similarly unaffected by the sight and sounds of death around them.

Nathaniel paused as screams erupted distantly. He frowned, then dived towards an alleyway. “Get out of the way!” he called to the others just as a crowd of panicked screaming people - men, women, children, young and old, all mindless with terror - surged down towards them; and armed Qunari behind them, wielding immense swords and axes and striking down the helpless people as they fled.

Fenris let his brands light as he unsheathed his sword and went to work on the Qunari that were heading their way. Nathaniel had his bow strung and was firing arrows even before the first wave of panicked people had fled past. Zevran vanished to reappear behind one of the Qunari, thrusting both daggers into the behemoth’s spine before vanishing as the Qunari warrior collapsed.

Nakusa dropped Anders’ backpack as his brands lit up and he vanished in a flash of blue light. Then one of the Qunari made a strange choking sound before abruptly exploding outwards, sending blood and viscera flying everywhere. Nakusa stepped out from the gory remains, plastered in blood, his wet hair plastered against his face and back and a savage, inhuman grin upon his face as he flung himself towards the nearest still-living Qunari.

Zevran emerged from the shadows to hamstring another Qunari warrior, turning and vanishing again as Fenris’ sword tore open the hapless warrior’s throat. Another went down with two of Nathaniel’s arrows protruding from throat and chest.

Fenris grinned as he saw Nakusa take out Qunari after Qunari between his strikes at a towering Sten that gave him a good fight even among the chaos. He whirled in a tight circle around the group ending one Qunari before he took out another warrior.

Invictus did his best to cast protective spells on them in lieu of Anders usual support role. The space wasn’t wide enough to cast offensively without injuring those in their group. “Behind you!” he shouted to Fenris before he ducked away from a Taarbas’ blade.

Nakusa spun on the ball of one foot, blood spraying from his hair as his brands flashed blue and he threw himself into another Qunari, shifting from lyrium ghost to solid form halfway through the body and exploding out the back of the warrior in an eruption of blood and spine before dropping into a tuck roll, coming up to his feet in front of another warrior.

Zevran paused, distracted by the disturbing vision of blood, gore and lyrium light, then hastily ducked as a swing of a large axe nearly took off his head. As it was, he felt the tip of the blade open up a gash across his forehead, the wash of blood nearly blinding him as he threw himself into the shadows to re-emerge behind another broad paint-marked back into which he plunged his daggers before whirling away.

“That’s kind of frightening.” Fenris remarked as he slipped next to Invictus and wiped gore and blood from his blade. 

“What, Nakusa?” Invictus panted as he cast a light Rejuvenation spell on his lover.

“Yes, him.” Fenris said before he entered the fray once more.

Fenris wound up back to back with his sibling as he tore through them with steel while Nakusa used his brands and a sure grip to thin the Qunari that attacked them.

Nathaniel’s bow sang and the last Qunari warrior fell. Nakusa whirled round, still grinning savagely with a strange gleam in his eye as he hunted for another foe to slay. Zevran emerged from the shadows, one hand pressed to the gash over his right eye as he blinked blood out of his eyes.

“They’re all down,” called Nathaniel as he glanced around the blood-soaked street. Bodies (and parts of bodies) were scattered everywhere. Zevran made his way over towards Invictus, blood streaming down his face. 

“Maker’s breath what got you?” Vic said as he met the Antivan elf and tipped his head to the side so he could see his injuries.

“A Qunari blade more than likely.” Fenris muttered as he watched Nakusa continue to check the street for more enemies. “He’s terrifying in a fight.”

“An axe,” answered Zevran, blinking as blood continued to trickle down his face, dripping off his chin as he held still for Invictus to inspect the gash. “I did not duck in time.” He was clutching his ribs on his left side.

Nakusa was ripping the bodies of the dead Qunari to shreds, growling as he glared around him, his eyes an impossible blue against the blood covering him from head to foot. His hair was almost black with blood, slowly congealing in the long locks.

“Nakusa, stop that and come here. They are all dead.” Fenris said wearily.

“Close your eyes, this will sting a bit,” Vic said as he wiped the slowly drying blood from Zevran’s face and concentrated on healing him.

Zevran drew in his breath with a faint hiss but was otherwise silent as Invictus healed the cut, then nodded his thanks as he made his way over to his abandoned backpack. He pulled out a waterskin and splashed water into his hand before rinsing the blood from his face and out of his eyes.

Nakusa straightened as he glared at his brother. His chest heaved as he panted open-mouthed; slowly he seemed to come back to himself and then he closed his eyes as he shuddered, shoulders slumping, the feral fit passed.

“Fenris, can you get him over here? I want to check both of you and Nathaniel before we move on.”

The younger elf beckoned to his older sibling and waited to see if he would come to him.

Nakusa opened his eyes and stared back at Fenris, then slowly picked his way through the dead bodies towards the other elf, skirting the eviscerated corpses almost skittishly, averting his eyes from the carnage he had wrought.

Invictus checked over the elves and found neither had sustained injuries. “Both of you are fine, let’s check Nathaniel and we can get going.”

“No need, I’m fine,” replied the archer with a shrug as he shouldered his pack once more. “Let’s go.” He frowned a moment, concentrating on focusing on the sensation that was uniquely Anders. Both the blond apostate and Solona were somewhere nearby. They hadn’t moved whilst they fought, thankfully, and he thought he had a better bearing now on where they were. He headed out into the street, the others falling in behind.

Nakusa fell into step alongside his brother, leaving a trail of bloody footprints behind him as he walked. 

They ran into two more groups of Qunari as they made their way through the city and had to retreat from a third force that was too powerful for them to have any chance of defeating. They aided the fleeing refugees and citizens as much as they could, but it was clear the city guard was vastly outnumbered and it was only a matter of time before the Qunari sacked the city completely.

“They’re just up ahead,” called Nathaniel as they rounded a corner. “They should be -”

He broke off as they stared at the inn, which seemed to be the scene of a pitched battle between the inhabitants of the inn and the troop of Qunari attempting to force their way inside. Flames licked at the side of the building, erupting from where they would guess the kitchen was situated. 

“- In there,” finished Nathaniel uncertainly. Zevran flicked blood off one of his daggers and inclined his head towards the inn, a grim look upon his face. 

“Then in we must also go,” he said.

Screams could be heard coming from inside the inn, and as one they all moved forward, Fenris and Nakusa lighting up their brands simultaneously. Zevran sprinted towards the burning kitchen where they could hear terrified screams.

“Zevran wait, don’t -” began Nathaniel but it was too late; the Antivan elf had leapt past the flames and was gone from view. A moment later he emerged with one of the servant girls, hurling her clear of the fire before darting back inside.

“Bloody mad elves,” he muttered as he turned his attention to the Qunari trying to enter the front of the inn.

Fenris and Nakusa felt it first; a tingling, drawing feeling as magic pulled on their brands, and then Invictus could feel it too; powerful magic building up to a crescendo. A moment later there was a violent explosion and the Qunari were thrown back as a massive blast of fire erupted through the doors. The horned warriors were only driven back momentarily however; those that had survived the blast charged the inn.

“Come on!” said Fenris and the two glowing elves moved as one, racing towards the melee.

Invictus cast protective spells on the others as he followed, Nathaniel sprinting alongside him then pausing to loose off arrows before running forward again. There was a brilliant flash of blue light as Nakusa vanished, re-emerging from the exploding corpse of one of the Qunari before phasing once more and leaping towards another. Though unarmed, the scarred elf was a weapon of devastation all by himself and he soon carved a path of carnage through the Qunari as Fenris followed close behind, wielding his immense two-handed sword to lethal effect.

Invictus felt magic gathering again and he ran forward. “Anders! Solona! Watch out, we’re coming in!” he bellowed, hoping the two wardens - if, indeed, it was them - could hear him. The last thing any of them needed was to get inadvertently flash-fried by the very apostate they were trying to rescue.

The Qunari seemed to have realised they were being attacked from behind; the nearest warriors were turning to face this new threat. Invictus switched to offensive spells as Nathaniel slung his bow across his back and drew his blades. The two elves were in the thick of it and of Zevran there was no sign.

As Fenris pulled his blade free he felt a familiar tingle across his skin followed a moment later by a wave of healing magic and grinned. Anders was alive and well then - Fenris was familiar with the touch of his apostate’s magic. The wave of healing magic was followed by an invigorating surge of restoration magic, and Fenris leapt into the fray refreshed and emboldened. Anders was alive, fighting, and knew they were here.

As Fenris and Nakusa forced their way through the two Qunari obstructing the doorway - quite literally in Nakusa’s case, spraying his brother with blood and gobbets of flesh as he emerged from the carcass of the warrior as it crumpled to the ground - they were confronted by the sight of Anders and Solona standing back to back, fighting in tandem against those Qunari who had made it into the inn’s common room. Dead men and Qunari lay scattered through the room in mute testimony of the fight that had erupted there. The roaring of fire could be heard overhead, and burning embers were drifting down from the ceiling, starting small fires here and there as acrid smoke rolled in from the burning kitchen and staff quarters.

Anders was fighting with one arm in a sling but it didn’t seem to be hampering his spell casting ability. Solona blocked a sword blow aimed at his head, and Anders unleashed a blast of ice from the palm of his hand that struck down the swordsman, following it up with a fan of ice that spread out to encase the feet of the nearest three Qunari before Solona blasted them with Force magic.

Fenris gagged on the blood that got into his mouth but he was glad to see his lover alive and fighting. “Anders!” he called out as he waded in to take the head of a Qunari that was advancing on the blond mage.

“Get them and let’s go!” Invictus panted as he cast Fire and Ice at the largest Qunari he’d seen outside the Arishok as it barreled down the burning staircase towards him.

Anders’ head whipped round as he heard his name called. “Fenris!” he called back and nodded his thanks as the elf unslung his staff and tossed it to him, catching it with his good hand, then swore as another Qunari rose up in front of him. He spun his staff overhead one-handed then brought the blade down hard upon the ground, unleashing a concussive blast of spirit magic that blew the Qunari back off his feet even as Nakusa flung himself through the falling warrior, emerging bloodily from his chest still clutching the Qunari’s heart in his fist. Anders gaped at him, horrified.

“Don’t look at me, he knew how to do that already.” Fenris called as he spun to take out a smaller Qunari fighter that had crept up towards them. “Gawk later, fry things now.” the elf shouted as he dashed back from a Saarebas that had appeared in front of him. “Shit, I hate that they can do that!” he screeched.

The Saarebas began to weave some sort of spell; Solona raised her hand and began to rapidly chant a counterspell beneath her breath as Anders gritted his teeth and threw lightning at its head. “Get out of the way, Fenris - let us take it down!” he yelled.

The Tevinter elf moved quickly to defend their backs. He saw Invictus across the burning room and grinned maniacally as his lover summoned up a Gravitic Ring to keep the Saarebas in one spot while he hammered it with Fist of the Maker.

The three mages fought against the Saarebas together as a team, Solona concentrating on countering its magic as Anders and Invictus attacked it directly, steadily wearing it down between them as the two elves and Nathaniel worked to keep the remaining Qunari off their backs.

As the Saarebas finally sank to the floor, dead, Solona slipped an arm around Anders’ waist and began to tug him towards the exit. “We have to get out, the whole place is going to collapse any minute!” she cried.

Invictus snagged Anders from her and hurried towards the exit. “Fenris, get Nakusa and Zevran, let’s fucking go!” he hollered as he booked towards the exit.

“I’ve got Nakusa, find Zevran!” Fenris said as he grabbed his sibling by the waist and hauled him towards the door. “Kill more outside, we’ll die in here.” he hissed as the crazed elf tried to wriggle out of his grip and towards the remaining Qunari.

“He went into the kitchen!” called Nathaniel as he was forced to retreat back towards the exit. The air was growing stiflingly hot and the bar was aflame; bottles of spirits were beginning to explode in the heat, spreading the flames further.

“Out, we have to get out - and hope Zevran has the sense to do likewise!” screamed Solona as she ran after Anders and Invictus, pressing a hand against Invictus’ shoulder to urge him faster. “It’s coming down, you can hear the roof going!”

“Stop shoving me.” Vic snapped as he caste Haste on them and dashed outside in time to pull Anders into his arms while they watched the inn collapse. 

“Zevran, Zevran!” Fenris screamed as he saw the place fall down in a rain of ash and smoke. 

“He must have gotten out. He couldn’t have still been in there - could he?” wondered Nathaniel, coughing as smoke and ash swirled around them, making their eyes water.

It was Nakusa’s turn to hold back his brother as the elven warrior tried to leap back towards the burning ruins.

“Anders… can you cast Ice Storm to put the fire out?” Vic said between coughing and trying to keep soot out of his eyes.

Anders nodded wearily as he reached inside himself for more mana. He straightened, pulling out of Invictus’ arms as he spun his staff one-handed over his head, gathering energies as he called up the power and fury of a winter blizzard.

Solona stepped up beside him and joined him, her power adding to his. How often had they done this in the past? The two mages acting as one, calling up the elements, each one’s power adding to the whole.

In a few minutes, the flames were extinguished, the fire dead, leaving only the charred timbers of the inn jutting towards the sky like the burned ribs of some immense beast, slain by fire. 

The two mages lowered their hands and glanced at one another, then Anders glanced to Invictus.

“Nakusa, keep him back while I look.” Vic said as he headed towards the smoking ruin to seek out the Antivan. 

“Zevran?...Zevran, where are you?” Invictus called as he picked his way through what was left of the inn.

A faint cough drew his attention finally, and the Antivan emerged from the shadows of an alleyway a little distance away from the ashes of the inn. As the moonlight fell on his face, Invictus could see it was smeared with soot. The golden eyes were red-rimmed from smoke.

“I am not dead yet, friend Hawke,” he rasped.

“You’ve more lives than a damned cat.” Vic said as he hurried over to sling an arm around Zevran’s waist. “Fenris will stop screaming when he sees you, I hope.”

Invictus winced as he heard his lover’s voice break from where he strained to get out of Nakusa’s grip. 

“ _Mi Carissimi,_ ” breathed Zevran, then stumbled, leaning heavily against the mage. “I must go to him.”

Invictus bit his tongue and helped Zevran over to Fenris. “Let him go Nakusa.” he said wearily as he moved just in time to avoid getting barreled over by the Tevinter warrior.

“Not dead, not dead, thank the Maker.” Fenris rasped as he held the shorter elf to him, grateful he still lived. Zevran nearly fell, and he clutched weakly at Fenris’s leather cuirass.

“Not yet, _carissimi_ , though it was a near thing,” Zevran confessed. “I nearly did not get out in time but it seems fortune was with me. Mostly,” he amended, as his left leg suddenly gave way beneath him.

Fenris caught him before he could hit the ground. “Let us help you.” he said as he struggled to hold the other elf upright. “Vic can you get Anders? I’ll help Zev.”

“Of course.” Invictus went over and wrapped an arm around the blond apostate. “No arguing, none. Let’s get out of here.” the Champion said with a dirty look towards his cousin as he limped away with the former warden held close.

Nathaniel moved over to help Fenris with Zevran. “It’s my leg,” the Antivan said apologetically. “I was caught by some of the falling timbers just before the rest of the inn came down.”

Nakusa appeared to have recovered from his blood-thirsty rage and brought up the rear beside Solona, his eyes on his brother and Zevran though they flicked often to the blond apostate as he leaned wearily into Invictus’ support, dragging his staff with his good hand as he let his head drop to rest against Invictus’ shoulder.

They began to make their way towards the city gate, and all were praying they would run into no more Qunari. 

It would be a long night before any of them found rest.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seheron is a fucking mess, so is everyone in the party. Fenris finds out what the big secret is, and he is so, not thrilled. Zevran gets something he never expected out of Fenris.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinks: fisting, deep throating, submission (light)

They pushed on through the night, wanting to put as much distance between the port and the Qunari invaders and themselves as possible. The sky was lit with the glow of countless fires behind them as they fled, and they encountered small groups of refugees here and there as they pushed on through the darkness. They could not afford to tarry or linger to help; Zevran was in pretty bad shape, Invictus was limping, and Anders was exhausted and barely capable of putting one foot in front of the other. Both Fenris and Nakusa were covered in a myriad of nicks, cuts, scrapes and wounds they’d sustained but been oblivious to in the heat of battle. 

Solona and Nathaniel kept moving doggedly; when Invictus stumbled, nearly pulling both himself and Anders over, the archer stepped up to relieve the Champion of his lover’s weight, slinging Anders’ staff on his back then pulling the blond apostate’s good arm over his shoulder without a word even as Nakusa stepped in next to Fenris and Zevran to help his sibling with the Antivan elf who was flagging badly. His left leg dragged as they helped him along, and the two elves were practically carrying him between them.

Solona was helping them all keep going with restoration magic but even she was reaching her limit as they made their way into the forest, trying to get as far away from any likely Qunari targets as possible. They were in no fit shape to fight any further and their minds were all fixed on the thought of finding somewhere safe where they could finally rest.

They could distantly make out the sky through the canopy of the trees overhead; it was changing colour, flushed with the first pinks and golds of dawn when they finally found a sheltered hollow near a stream with enough space for them all to lie down. They stumbled on it almost by accident, Nathaniel nearly slipping with Anders through some screening undergrowth into the stream before leading them all along the bank to find the hidden hollow. A rocky overhang provided shelter and the hollow was lined with soft, springy moss that was almost as comfortable to lie on as Invictus’ feather beds back in Kirkwall.

Anders dropped down onto the moss with a low groan, echoed by the others as they shrugged off packs, divested themselves of staves or swords and finally let themselves rest. Nathaniel shrugged off his pack and set it down, then took Anders’ pack from Nakusa and set it behind Anders. The mage leaned against it with a low sigh.

Solona pulled healing potions out of her backpack, handing them out. “We’re running low on these,” she remarked in an undertone to Invictus as she pressed one into his hands. He made to give it back but she glared at him. “You need it, you’re not in any fit state to do any healing and Anders certainly isn’t. Take it,” she growled and moved on to the three elves.

Fenris was sitting hunched over Zevran, who lay quietly with his head in the warrior’s lap. Nakusa glanced up as she approached; she stared down at Zevran for a few minutes then handed three potion bottles to Nakusa.

“Nakusa, you should bathe in the stream,” she said quietly. “You’re covered in blood. I have some soap in my backpack.”

The former slave stared down at his arms then his body as though only just seeing the drying, congealing blood for the first time. He nodded, placing the potion bottles next to Fenris before rising to his feet to follow Solona. She gave him the bar of soap then made her way over towards Anders as Nakusa headed to the stream to wash.

Fenris uncapped a potion and handed it to Zevran, he left two uncorked next to him. He was sore, and felt a few cuts and bruises making themselves known, but he ignored the pain for the moment. “Here, you need this.”

Zevran attempted to take the bottle but hissed in pain; it was then that Fenris realised the Antivan’s hands were both burned and blistered. “I... cannot,” said the elf quietly. “ _Carissimi_ , I hate to ask but... would you help me?”

“Of course.” Fenris shifted so he was holding Zevran against his chest as he held the potion bottle so the other elf could drink. “Do you have any salve in your pack? I can do something for your hands unless you’d like Anders or Vic to look them over first?” 

Zevran glanced over at Anders, who was being roused by Solona to take a healing potion. “Anders is in no fit state to look at anything, yes? I place myself in your capable hands, _carissimi_. There is salve in my bag.”

“Unless you wish her to check your wounds since she is the only mage present that isn’t too tapped out.” Fenris said softly.

“We may need her magic should enemies come upon us unexpectedly,” said Zevran tiredly. “Salve and dressings and sleep shall suffice for now, and perhaps Anders will be recovered enough to mend the rest after we have all slept.” He shifted his head a little so he could look up at Fenris. “You need sleep as well, _mi amor_ ; you look as bad as I feel.”

“I can’t sleep, what we’ve seen is going to haunt me.” Fenris said as he moved to get the Antivan’s pack. “Being back in the jungles of Seheron is not going to ease my mind one bit, now let me work.” the Tevinter elf said tiredly. 

Nakusa came back to join them. He was clad only in his smallclothes; he had stripped out of his bloodstained clothing, scrubbing it in the stream as well as washing himself, and he spread his clothes to dry over a nearby bush before sitting near Zevran’s feet as he wrung out his long hair then began untangling it with his fingers.

Zevran sat up slowly with a wince and started to toe off his boots, staring at the charred ruins of his trousers. The right leg was mostly fine, but down the left leg the leather had singed and burned away in places, revealing raw blistered flesh where the burning timbers had pinned him. Gingerly the Antivan began to peel his pants away from the burns, and Nakusa flipped his damp hair back before shifting forward to press Zevran back down onto the mossy bed then nimbly peel the charred leather away from the injured flesh with a featherlight touch. 

No matter how lightly Nakusa tried to touch, Zevran couldn’t check his little gasps of pain. The scarred elf frowned, and then his brands briefly lit up as he took firm hold of the leather then phased it, drawing it away completely in one smooth motion.

Fenris arched an eyebrow at the other elf. “It seems you’ve learned far more about your abilities than I ever have.” he said quietly.

“Once, I could do far more,” replied Nakusa. “I am but a crippled half-thing now. But if my abilities can serve to help save life as well as take it, then I take some small comfort in that.”

“More? You have far more control than I’ve dreamed of. Perhaps, you could teach me some of what you know?” Fenris asked as he looked down in shame for wanting to slay Nakusa out of turn when they met him.

“And perhaps in turn you could teach me how not to lose myself when the rage of battle comes upon me and I become a mindless monster,” replied Nakusa quietly. “I do not know if it was a consequence of my flesh being ripped open or something else, but... when I enter battle, it is like I become some savage, feral beast, and all I care about is death. I dread it even as a part of me longs for it, to lose myself in the killing.”

“You were a terrifying sight to behold,” murmured Zevran weakly, his eyes closed as Fenris tended to his wounds. “But you are not solely that mindless creature. Maybe it is only your own pain and fear given free rein?” 

“We can teach each other then, brother.” Fenris said as he looked at the other elf, his gaze slightly fearful that he would not be claimed as kin after their reunion and how he’d acted.

Nakusa stared at Fenris’ hands as they stilled, then lifted his blue eyes to his sibling’s face. He nodded, then hesitantly smiled. “Brother,” he acknowledged with a small nod.

The white haired elf smiled as he tended to Zevran’s wounds, pleased at Nakusa’s acceptance.

Invictus came over with water and rations for them. “Here you go, Zevran I guess you need someone to feed you.”

Zevran glanced down at his hands as Fenris finished dressing his hands, then shrugged ruefully. “For the present at least,” he concurred. He glanced to Fenris and raised one eyebrow as his lips curved in a playful smile.

“You are going to enjoy this far more than you should I think.” Fenris said as he finished bandaging the Antivan’s hands. “Let me wash off in the stream and I’ll get something into you.”

Zevran’s eyebrows lifted and he levered himself up onto his elbows. “Now that is an offer I cannot resist, _carissimi_ ,” he said in a low voice. His smile broadened and he licked his lips slowly as his eyes held Fenris’. Invictus made a choked sound. Nakusa said nothing but his eyes widened a little.

“I’m...just going to go now.” Fenris said as he felt himself flush from his hair to his chest. He ran for the stream and dunked himself in, leathers and all in an effort to cool off and rinse dust in one go. He returned and stripped his jerkin and vest off so they could dry while he left his trousers on for the time being. 

“Just...open up and eat.” Fenris mumbled as he refused to look at Zevran or anyone else.

Zevran’s eyes didn’t leave Fenris as his lips parted and he accepted the morsel of food, his tongue darting out to lick a crumb from Fenris’ fingertip. He made a faint sound of appreciation, eyes half-closing. As Fenris held out another piece of food, Zevran’s tongue darted out again to gently trail along a lyrium-lined finger before his lips closed delicately over Fenris’ fingers. He swallowed the food then swirled his tongue around the tips of Fenris’ fingers again before drawing back a little with a very quiet moan.

Nakusa was watching with wide eyes, and even Anders had lifted himself up on one elbow to watch as Zevran continued to eat morsel after morsel from Fenris’ fingers, turning the act of eating into an erotic performance. 

“Andraste’s tits, man, that is positively indecent,” groaned Nathaniel as he turned away, blushing.

“Tell me about it,” agreed Anders.

“I need some water.” Vic said hoarsely from his place near Fenris, but he could not move from that spot if the Arishok had come running up behind him. “Maker…”

Fenris felt like he couldn’t draw breath to tell the other elf to knock it off, and he knew his face was hot and flushed. He watched as Zevran continued to put on a show for the camp as he handed him bits of food without thinking.

Zevran’s eyes were closed, oblivious to the stares of everyone else in the camp - and somehow Fenris didn’t think he would care anyway. The Antivan’s attention seemed focused entirely upon Fenris’ hand; his eyes would flicker open briefly between each morsel to gaze at Fenris before sliding shut in what appeared to be bliss as his mouth, lips and tongue worked upon Fenris’ fingers.

When he was finally replete he lay back down with a satisfied sigh, opening his eyes to gaze upon Fenris. “Why, _carissimi_ , you appear... flushed. Are you hot?” His grin was mischievous.

Solona abruptly got to her feet and flounced wordlessly off into the undergrowth in the direction of the stream.

“Z...Zev.” Fenris stuttered as he seemed to remember he could speak.

“You are an evil man, Zevran Arainai,” scolded Nathaniel. The Antivan put on an innocent look.

“I? I was merely eating, friend Nathaniel,” he replied. “But now I am... sated.” He grinned again. “For now.” His eyes glanced back at Fenris with a silent promise of more.

“I...should eat too.” Fenris said in a daze. 

“Love, you look like a doe in a campfire.” Invictus teased him.

Nathaniel got to his feet as Anders sat up fully and made to stand. The Grey Warden frowned at Anders.

“Where are you going?” he asked quietly.

“Where do you think?” replied the blond apostate as he got to his feet. “Someone needs to go after her.”

Nathaniel laid a hand deliberately over Anders’ injured shoulder, lightly yet firmly, and Anders was forced to stand still.

“That person should not be you, my friend,” the archer said softly. Anders turned his head to meet Nathaniel’s gaze, defiant.

Invictus set back and watched them carefully, content to let Nathaniel deal with it. If Anders wanted to risk his neck to talk his cousin off a high branch, so be it.

“She might listen to me,” argued Anders. “Take your hand off me, Nathaniel.”

“Anders, please. Sit down. Rest. Leave her to sulk. You know how she is; she just needs a little space to get over herself.”

“No, I _don’t_ know,” Anders argued. “Solona has changed. And I know that in the old days before she changed, I wouldn’t have let her walk off alone like that - and nor would you. Let me go.”

Nathaniel let his hand drop. “Be careful,” he said quietly.

“A bit late for that,” muttered Anders as he turned away and headed towards the stream.

Fenris shook himself out of his stupor and worked on his own rations as he tried to avoid the stares of the others in camp.

Nakusa dropped his gaze to his own food though he kept stealing small looks at Fenris and Zevran. Nathaniel shook his head and sat on a fallen log near the edge of the camp to eat, glancing often in the direction the two mages had gone.

Once he was done eating, Fenris stretched out with his head in Vic’s lap and his hands folded over his stomach. “Once everyone is healed we should be on our way. Being back in the jungle makes me uneasy.”

Zevran was fast asleep, but Nakusa sat nearly listening. Across the camp, Nathaniel sat on his log, repairing the fletching on an arrow as he kept one eye on the small path leading through the undergrowth towards the stream.

“Anders is a braver man than I.” Vic said as he let his fingers card through Fenris’ locks.

“If they’re not back by the time I’ve finished fletching this arrow then I’m going after them,” said Nathaniel, not looking up from the feathers he was tying off.

“Good luck.” Fenris rumbled as he got comfortable against his lover.  
“You are a cat, no matter how much you protest.” Invictus said with a laugh. He turned to see Nakusa was still looking at them when he thought no one was watching.

“What is it Nakusa, you look like you’ve a question trying to get out.” Vic said.

Nakusa shook his head, dropping his gaze to the ground, seemingly disconcerted at having been caught watching them.

Nathaniel stood up and tucked the arrow in his quiver. “You should all try following Zevran’s example and sleep,” he said. “I’ll be back with the others shortly.” he turned and headed off into the undergrowth.

“I can’t sleep here, you and Nakusa should rest Vic.” Fenris said as he opened his eyes to the canopy of dense foliage. 

“I’m not sleeping and leaving anyone unprotected. Close your eyes love, rest even if you can’t sleep.” Vic let his hand drift to the elf’s hip protectively.

Nakusa stretched then curled up on the soft moss, then froze as he felt a soft ripple of magic - just the faintest, lightest touch - tugging at the lyrium in his scarred skin. He lifted his head and glanced at Fenris, but his sibling seemed too preoccupied with arguing with Invictus over which of them should try to sleep to have noticed. Nakusa frowned but lay down again. He closed his eyes and waited, but the faint ripple was not repeated.

“Invictus Endrin Hawke, go sleep. I’m too tense to sleep while we’re in here.” Fenris said tersely.

“Fine, I’ll sleep but you will rest later even if I have to carry you myself.” Vic conceded.

**

Nathaniel emerged from the undergrowth to find Anders and Solona beside the stream. Anders was sitting on a rock by the stream, his bare feet dangling in the water, an absent look on his face as he stared into space as Solona stood behind him, lightly flexing her fingers against his scalp through his loose dark gold hair.

“You understand?” asked Solona softly. Anders slowly nodded.

“It makes sense,” he said quietly. His brow furrowed slightly in a frown. “But I don’t....”

Solona’s fingers flexed and he fell silent, his brow smoothing. “All will be fine, Anders,” said Solona gently. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Yes, Solona,” said Anders simply.

“Solona?” asked Nathaniel uncertainly. She glanced over at him and smiled faintly. 

“We were just coming back,” she said, lowering her hands to Anders’ shoulders. “Weren’t we, Anders?”

“Yes, Solona,” replied Anders as he glanced at Nathaniel, blinking.

“Anders is very tired. Would you help me get him back to the camp? He needs to sleep,” she asked.

“Sure,” replied Nathaniel as he moved forward to help Anders to his feet. “Is everything OK? You seemed pretty upset earlier.”

“I’m fine now,” replied Solona. “Come on Anders.”

Anders stood up and turned to head back to the camp then stumbled, looking confused. “What... Nathaniel?”

“Come on Anders, you’re exhausted. Look at you, you can barely stand up!” said Solona gently.

“I’m very tired,” he nodded. “Sleep would be really good.”

They made their way back to the camp, where Nathaniel helped Anders to lie down. Solona crouched down next to Anders and patted his shoulder gently.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“You’re welcome,” answered Anders distractedly then yawned. “I can barely keep my eyes open all of a sudden....”

“Come and lay down with Vic, I’m going to stand watch.” Fenris said as he watched Solona. He didn’t trust her and something seemed...not right for as upset as she seemed when she stormed off.

“Too sleepy to get up again,” mumbled Anders in protest as he snuggled his face into his pillow and tugged his blanket over himself. Nathaniel returned to his fallen log and tugged out another arrow that needed attention to its fletching.

The elf scowled and went over to the blond mage with worry. “Love, please let me help you up and over to where Vic and I are resting. I would like it if you were with us.” Fenris asked quietly. 

Anders grumbled but let Fenris help him up, snatching up the embroidered pillow and his blanket. He winced as his shoulder protested all the movement. “I warn you, once i close my eyes I don’t think even a dragon could wake me,” he groused as he stumbled towards Invictus, leaning against Fenris. “Maker, but I am so _tired_.”

“That’s fine, I just...I’m worried. Sleep, I’ll be here watching over you love.” Fenris said softly as he found a spot to work on his sword. Anders gratefully sank down to lie on the soft cushioning moss, snuggling up to Invictus, and was soon fast asleep and dead to the world. Solona had stretched out on her bedroll near the back of the overhang.

“I’ll keep watch with you,” said Nathaniel as he worked on the arrow.

“If you wish, but I am not given to idle chatter, especially in this kind of a situation.” Fenris said as he continued to glare at the Hero. He was sure she was up to something, but he didn’t know what.

“Suits me fine,” replied Nathaniel with an easy smile to take any sting out of his words.

Fenris grunted as he worked on his blade, his gaze flicked to Nakusa, then his sleeping lovers on occasion then back to what he worked on. He was mostly silent as he kept watch, with a glare sent towards Solona every so often.

Nathaniel glanced up from his fletching and noticed Fenris glaring at the Warden yet again. “She’s not going to do anything to anyone in her sleep, Fenris,” he said quietly.

“I’m from Tevinter, she very well could and none of you would be the wiser.” Fenris replied.

Nathaniel snorted. “She was raised in the Circle at Kinloch Hold; if she’d shown any signs of being able to do anything in dreams it would have been uncovered long ago. Anders would certainly know - he was in the Circle with her.”

“I don’t care, I don’t trust her. You all are keeping things from me, something she did that I can’t remember. The sooner we part ways with her, the better.” Fenris said with a hint of menace to his voice.

"You forget that I have to go wherever she goes," replied Nathaniel with a rueful shrug. "Much though I wish I could assist you on your mission to rescue your friend, I'm afraid Solona and I are... kind of a joint deal. It's both or neither I'm afraid."

“You have caused me no offense, warden Howe.” Fenris admitted begrudgingly. “She however has, and no one will tell me what happened. So I want her away from me and Anders. If Zevran chooses to follow, that is his business.” 

"I think that little performance he put on earlier showed us exactly who he's going to follow," answered Nathaniel with a grin. "Zevran's not a Warden. He's not beholden to Solona as I am." He stared down at the arrow in his hands for a moment. "Solona lost her temper when you got in her face. She lashed out instinctively. You hit the wall - hard." He looked up at Fenris, the smile gone. 

"You were very upset just before it happened, and still in shock over your brother. Anders was afraid if you knew the truth it might throw you right back into shock or worse. He wanted to give you time to fully recover. But right now I think the not knowing is causing you more distress."

Fenris went very still for a moment, then turned to look at the Hero, Invictus’ cousin, all the family he had left outside of Carver. “How bad was it?” he asked softly.

Nathaniel laid aside the arrow and rose to his feet, stepping over to place himself between his commander and the man she'd nearly killed. "Bad enough," he said quietly. "It's why she was avoiding you on the ship. Fenris...." He held his hands up to show he was unarmed. "I know you're angry. But I can't let you kill her. You'll have to go through me first - and I know you can kill me without breaking a sweat, but I don't think you really want to do that, do you?" 

The archer tilted his head on one side as he regarded the elven warrior. "And despite his conflicting feelings about her, I think if she dies at your hands that will destroy Zevran. And I have no idea what it would do to Anders - or to Hawke. She's his only family, right? Just... please, sit down, think. Don't do anything rash." Nathaniel kept his voice low, soothing and calm as he stared death in the face and pleaded for the life of the sleeping woman.

Fenris glanced past the archer and stared at the sleeping mage for a while before he turned his gaze back to Nathaniel. “You are lucky I have come to like you, be grateful that I love Anders and Zevran more than I like the idea of making her pay for what she did to me. Be warned, that if she raises her hand or her power against me again, it _will_ be her last action on Thedas. Am I clear Warden?” the elf’s voice was a low rumble, his eyes were dark and his posture tense as a cat ready to spring upon prey.

Nathaniel exhaled slowly. He hadn't realised he'd been holding his breath until that moment.

"Understood," he nodded.

“Good, keep her away from me and Anders. Or I will not hold hold my anger in check any longer.” Fenris went back to his seat, laid his sword down with in reach and stretched out atop the log. “Make sure she knows I will not tolerate her, so there is no repeat of what happened.”

Nathaniel made his way back to his fallen log and sat down rather heavily. His hand shook slightly as he reached for the arrow once more and he frowned. With a effort of will he steadied his hand and finished fletching it.

Anders sighed and shifted in his sleep, briefly calling out Fenris' name before rolling onto his right side and falling quiet again.

The elf went over and curled up in between his lovers, his arm thrown over the blond ex-warden’s side as he tried to get some rest before they broke camp.

**

Anders was walking the Fade, calling for Justice as it seemed he had done every night, every sleeping moment since the spirit was stripped away from him. It was force of habit now; he had no real belief anymore that he could ever find the spirit again. Justice was long gone, an empty void inside Anders where once he had been.

He vaguely recognised the scenery he was passing through; part of the Deep Roads, though where exactly he couldn’t have said. There was a cavern up ahead, and as he emerged into it he realised he was at the bottom of a vast chasm. Before him rose up a fortress, and the apostate frowned as he stared at it. It was not built in the dwarven style, though was undoubtedly of dwarven build. Singing was coming from somewhere deep inside; a strange, hypnotic sound. He couldn’t quite make out words but was certain he would be able to make them out if he was closer.

The Fade shifted; he was at the base of the huge tower, staring up at the gates. Another shift and he was inside, walking up steps.

The singing was louder, the voice familiar.

Climbing stairs, glancing out a window as he rose higher and higher. A shaft of light through a crack in the immense rock surrounding the fortress, a view of mountains in the distance. Not Sundermount, he knew that much. The Vimmark Mountains? He had no idea. He pressed on.

A large circular chamber, arches leading off on all four sides to balconies that overlooked the chasm. A raised circular dais in the middle. Anders approached it slowly; it was here that the singing was coming from, but frustratingly he still couldn’t quite make out the words.

“ _Anders._ ”

He spun at the voice behind him, and his eyes widened in shock before he leapt forward with a joyful shout. “Justice! It’s you, I’ve actually found you again!”

“ _Anders, my friend, it had been so long. I have been waiting for you._ ”

“I don’t understand - I’ve been searching for you,” faltered Anders. “I’ve reached inside, called and called for you but you weren’t there.”

“ _I was always here, but diminished, Anders_ ,” answered Justice, allowing the mage to take its gauntleted hands that glowed with a shimmery silvery light. “ _That part of me that was tainted and corrupted was stripped away. I am now as you once knew me._ ”

“You mean... you were with me all along? Even though I couldn’t feel you?” the blond apostate asked. 

“ _You know it, Anders. Feel the rightness of my words. This is what you sought, was it not? You have been directionless, rudderless since you abandoned our cause. But the mages still suffer injustice Anders; they still cry out to be freed. Can you not hear them?_ ”

The singing was overlaid with distant screams and cries of anguish, pleas for help. A woman’s voice, high and despairing, wailed for the baby snatched from her breast; a man’s voice screamed _enough, please, don’t - not that, no more!_ , a child sobbing brokenly for her mother.

Anders blanched. “No, please, i can’t bear it,” he begged.

“ _They still await justice, Anders. How can we deny them?_ ”

“But - how -”

“ _The plan. We still have the plan. Be strong of heart and steadfast, Anders; we can do this. We can accomplish this together. You have purpose, a reason for living once more. I am with you, even when you cannot feel it. We are one, Anders,_ ” said Justice as it lifted a hand and laid it upon Anders’ chest. 

The spirit’s fingers sank into Anders’ flesh painlessly, and the blond apostate could feel the ghostly fingers curl around his heart - but unlike the sensation when Fenris plunged his fist into his chest, there was no pain. The spirit’s touch was soothing, gentle, waves of warm comfort and reassurance radiating through Anders’ body as Justice cradled his heart protectively.

Justice withdrew its hand and then took a step back. “ _I shall rekindle and renew the fire of justice within your heart, Anders. Are you ready?_ ” It drew a sword and levelled it at Anders’ chest.

Anders felt no fear. He fell to his knees and tore open his coat, baring his chest for the sword then flinging his arms wide. “Do it!” he begged.

The sword pierced his heart and he screamed, the pain exquisite and beautiful and holy and wonderful even as it was agony and pain and death and dying and he was falling, falling as his life’s blood spilled and yet it felt so good, so right, so _just_.

**  
Meanwhile Fenris’ dreams were not so joyous. His were filled with the screams of those he’d slaughtered at Danarius’ command; he’d called out and not realized it but his pleas were drowned out by the scream of his lover right next to him. The elf scrambled to his feet, brands alight and ready to slay whatever had caused such a fright from the ex-warden.

Invictus came around with a start and a yelp at the noise from his mage lover. “What? What is it?” he panted as fire and ice danced on his fingertips.

Anders fell silent, sprawled upon his back with a peaceful, serene expression upon his face. It took Invictus a moment to realise the blond apostate wasn’t breathing.

“Fenris, he’s not breathing.” Vic said as he dropped to his knees and rested a palm upon the mage’s chest. “Come on, fucking breathe.”

Fenris let his brands die as he dropped to his knees and grabbed at Anders’ shoulders, wrenching the unconscious apostate upright. The sudden jerk caused Anders to suddenly gasp, drawing in a breath, and then his eyes fluttered open as he stared at Fenris in confusion.

“You weren’t breathing and you scared a few years off me with your screaming. What did you dream of?” Fenris said as he held the mages face in his hands and stared at him.

Invictus slumped down and swore as relief flooded him. “I am going to age twenty years by the time this trip is done.”

Nakusa had sat up ramrod straight and stared at his sibling, Anders and Invictus in surprise.

Unusually, despite having awoken with a scream Anders seemed very calm and not at all distressed - in fact he appeared to be relaxed, almost serene. “I’m sorry, love - I didn’t mean to wake you both,” he said contritely. One hand rubbed at his chest absently as he smiled reassuringly at the elf and mage.

“You...didn’t mean to wake us? You scared me awake from a deep, sound sleep. You don’t even look bothered, what in the Void is wrong with you?” Fenris said in a rush. He wondered what was wrong with Anders, since him screaming himself awake usually meant tears, and comforting the apostate.

“Let’s be thankful for small favors Fenris. Maybe we can get an early start since we’re all awake anyway.” Invictus stood and started to pack up to keep the others from seeing how rattled he was. 

Anders lowered his eyes as he rubbed his chest over his heart. He could still remember how it felt as Justice’s sword had pierced him - the intense, overwhelming pain, similar to how it had felt when Rolan had ran him through, but also the heady feeling of ecstasy and euphoria, the wave of bliss that had rolled through him. He could almost have said it was orgasmic except that seemed somehow blasphemous. He wasn’t sure he could explain it to Fenris and Invictus - and in truth, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. It was too intimate, too personal - and he wasn’t sure how Fenris would react if he told him he thought Justice had returned to him.

“Just a dream,” Anders said quietly. “I... don’t remember what I was dreaming of.” He hated to lie to Fenris but telling the truth would be far worse, he was certain. This would have to be his little secret. His... and Justice’s.

He got to his feet and headed towards the path in the undergrowth that led toward the stream. “Call of nature,” he excused himself.

Fenris dropped his head and shuddered. Something was wrong, he was sure of it. Anders wasn’t himself after his talk with Solona, and the fact that they’d all hidden what she’d done to him was still on his mind. He moved slowly, carefully more to keep himself in check than anything.

Anders found a quiet spot well away from camp to take care of his bodily needs and then went to wash in the stream. He stripped off his shirt and knelt beside the water, bending down to wash his face and hands then knelt there, staring at the water for a little while. He felt at peace with himself in a way he hadn’t in months. He reached inside and found no sign of the spirit there, and yet the empty place felt... warm. Comforting. He no longer felt utterly bereft, like he were still caught in some horrible nightmare. 

He reached up and unwound the bandages over his shoulder and torso, running his good hand over the bruised skin with a ripple of healing magic, restoring strength and movement once more.

He stared down at the scar on his chest over his heart where the templar had tried to kill him shortly after he first bonded with Justice. He trailed his fingers over it, and in his mind’s eye it wasn’t Rolan wielding the blade but Justice, the spirit’s eyes blazing through the slit in his helm with what seemed to be an inhuman love and tenderness as he drove the glowing sword through Anders’ heart, rekindling the fire and restoring purpose once more.

He felt _himself_ again, and more. He laughed for sheer joy, and splashed water over his chest and shoulders then for the hell of it dunked his head in the icy water, throwing his wet hair back onto his shoulders with a gasp as he straightened, still laughing.

He was still smiling as he walked back into camp, his wet hair soaking his shirt, the tatty feathered coat slung over one shoulder. “I’m starving,” he said as he threw the coat down by his backpack then dropped to sit crosslegged as he wound up the bandages. 

Fenris didn’t speak to Anders, he was still rattled from the way he’d acted after waking them all with his screams. Instead he tended to Zevran and helped him to eat once more.

Invictus brought over some rations to the blond apostate as he dropped down next to him. “Are you really alright? You scared us wide awake love.”

“Never better,” smiled Anders. “Sorry to worry everyone. I just... I’m so glad to be out of that damned slave collar and breathing free air. I feel like I’ve woken from one long nightmare.” He glanced at Zevran. “Oh, hey, Zevran, let me see to your hands - I should have done that first!” he got up and dropped into a crouch next to the Antivan, taking hold of his hands gently and then letting a strong wave of healing magic wash through the elf.

Nakusa’s spine stiffened as he felt the powerful healing magic unleashed so near by; he could have sworn the lyrium in his brands was practically singing.

“There you go,” smiled Anders as he made his way back over to Invictus and sat down before tearing into his food, wolfing it down with his old warden’s appetite.

The Champion looked over to his elven lover with an arched brow but realized that Fenris was bent over and almost panting as if he was in distress. He’d felt Anders magic but it never affected him as much as it would have the Tevinter warrior. “Love?”

“Give me...a moment.” Fenris murmured as he tried to calm himself.

“Brother?” murmured Nakusa. Affected as he himself had been, he guessed it must have been far more powerful for Fenris, bearing so much more lyrium as he did. He shifted over to sit closer to the younger elf, not quite touching him. “This... this is not something you have experienced before around him?”

“It’s different...more powerful than usual.” Fenris gasped as he tried to uncurl himself. “Healing magic affects me, his especially.”

“Take my hand. I want to show you something,” said Nakusa as he held out his lyrium-lined hand, palm uppermost.

Fenris held out his hand, unsure what the other elf was up to, but it had to be better than embarrassing himself by tackling Anders in front of everyone.

Nakusa’s brands lit up softly, and Fenris’ brands flickered to life in response. “Open up to the Fade - as you do when phasing, but remain here. Let the magic drain away into the Fade like water,” said Nakusa gently, as he did so himself. “Feel how it drains away? In the heat of battle you can dispel magic cast upon you this way, but for now it will help make things simply more bearable.” He smiled reassuringly. “You did ask me to teach you what I know.”

Fenris smiled at him in thanks. "I am grateful."

Zevran sat up and started to strip the bandages and dressings off his hands. “I think perhaps Anders prefers to avoid a repeat of my earlier performance,” he grinned before tucking into his food.

Fenris blushed and stood up to get his own meal. "Where do we go from here Zevran?"

Invictus came over and pressed a kiss to the warrior's temple. "Talk later, about Anders," He whispered before he pulled away to pass Nakusa a canteen and rations.

Solona and Nathaniel were talking in low voices, darting looks at Anders, and presently Nathaniel got up and came over to Invictus. “Solona’s worried about Anders, as am I. He’s... this is almost the way he was before all the stuff with justice and the templars happened, and whilst I’m delighted he seems so... so cheerful after how miserable he’s been the past couple of weeks, such a sudden change is worrying. Has he ever done anything like this before, in all the time you’ve known him?”

Anders was oblivious to the concerned looks being sent his way as he finished his food, humming contentedly to himself as he combed out his long hair and scraped it all back into a single ponytail then tugged an earlobe thoughtfully.

"No, this sudden cheerfulness isn't like the man I know. Perhaps when we make camp again you and I can speak Nathaniel." Vic whispered as he made slow work of putting things away.

Fenris came over as he finished his jerky, his gaze darkened as it fell on Solona. "Get away from Invictus, unless you plan on throwing him into a tree if he angers you." The elf hissed at her.

Solona regarded him silently for a moment then turned her back on him as she made her way over to her bedroll and began to pack up.

“The Qunari settlement where Isabela is being held is to the east of us and south, upon the coast,” said Zevran. “It will take maybe three or four days of walking to get there, more if we have to avoid Qunari patrols.”

"Love what are you talking about? Why would she attack me?" Vic asked nervously.

"I know what she did, and my distrust was well founded it seems. I just want to be sure she won't throw you into the first tree she sees if you don't obey , since there aren't any walls here.” The Tevinter elf stared at his lover defiantly, to see if he'd deny what he'd revealed.

“No-one is throwing anyone into walls, trees or anything else,” said Anders as he packed his pillow away into his backpack and started to fold his blanket. “Unless we run into any more Qunari; feel free to throw them into all the large immovable objects you like.”

"We will speak later, for withholding that from me." Fenris snapped as he glared at the blond mage.

That made Anders pause, his hands stilling upon the blanket in his lap. “Ah. That,” he said quietly. 

"That?" Fenris said quietly. "That, the fact she flung me into a wall hard enough to nearly kill me, hard enough that I couldn't recall it on my own and that's all you can say?" The elf finished in an angry scream.

"Love...we didn't want--" Vic was cut off when Fenris pointed at him. 

"No, I want to hear this from him. I'm sure he's the one that decided to withhold it from me." Fenris turned back to Anders and waited.

Anders stared up at the angry elf and considered getting to his feet, then decided to stay where he was. Having the tall apostate looming over him wouldn’t help Fenris’ mood any, he figured.

“You were in shock even before it happened, upset. You weren’t dealing very well with the revelations about Nakusa, and I was seriously concerned that it would be more than you could handle just at that point. As your _healer_ -” he stressed the word with a serious look,” - I took the decision to withhold the details of how you became injured until such time as you were healed enough and far enough away from the whole situation to be able to handle it without risking a relapse.” He stared up at Fenris. “I don’t know how you found out, or what you’ve remembered, but it was what I thought was best for you purely from a medical point of view. I would have told you sooner but I was a little distracted by yesterday’s events.” His mouth twisted wryly. “I wasn’t anticipating getting trampled by a stampeding crowd, for a start.”

"You know me, did you think I would take that well?" Fenris said as he stared at the kneeling former warden.

"As for yesterday, none of us anticipated it. Do not use that as an excuse to downplay this."

“No, I didn’t, but it was better than having you go utterly catatonic on us,” replied Anders bitterly. “At least you’re capable of being angry with me.”

"I won't forget this." Fenris snapped before he turned to gather his things.

"Love, he didn't do that to hurt you, it was to help." Vic said softly.

"I don't care. Leave me alone, all of you." Fenris said as he shouldered his pack.

Anders finished folding his blanket and stowed it in his pack before rising to his feet and tugging on his coat, straightening out a few feathers before slinging the pack on his back and reaching for his staff. His fingers stole beneath the feathers to brush lightly over the scar on his chest through his shirt and he took comfort in the warm inner glow he still felt.

Fenris was angry with him but it didn't matter. He wasn't alone anymore. He still had Justice. Fenris would get over this eventually.

Invictus sighed and waited for Zevran to lead the way.

The Antivan gave Invictus an apologetic look as he disappeared into the bushes before returning a short while later.He slung his satchel over his shoulder, checked his blades in their sheaths, then nodded as he led them out of the hollow. 

Anders dropped into stride beside Invictus, his eyes on the Antivan. Nakusa and Fenris followed, the two Grey Wardens bringing up the rear.

Fenris fidgeted as they walked, having Solona at his back made him tense. 

Vic didn't dare speak to Fenris, not when he was in such a mood. He spoke quietly with Anders as they walked, with an occasional glance back at the warrior.

Anders’ initial buoyant mood had muted somewhat but the apostate still seemed far more relaxed and at ease than Invictus had seen him ever. As they walked, Anders pointed out herbs that seemed vaguely familiar though often far lusher and growing larger than they did back in Ferelden or near Sundermount, his voice quiet and hushed as they made their way through the forest. 

Fenris spoke quietly with Nakusa but his ire towards the others didn't abate even when they stopped to rest a few hours later.

The two Grey Wardens sat apart from the others and talked quietly as they glanced over a map that Solona had pulled from her backpack.

Anders stretched out on his back under a tree and promptly dropped into a light doze.

Fenris gave him a dirty look as he settled down next to his sibling and pulled out more rations and his canteen.

Invictus came over and sat with them, ready to move in case his lover’s dark mood was still upon him. 

Zevran sat by himself, sipping water from his canteen as he smoothed a map painted upon a thin square of silk over his knee and pondered, his gaze distant.

“Mind if I sit with you? Or are you still angry with us?” Vic asked quietly.

“Do what you wish, but when we resume our trek, I do not want _her_ at my back as we go.” Fenris muttered as he glanced to his lover.

“Fenris,” called Zevran, his tone distracted. “Could I have a moment of your time, _carissimi_? I am not certain how accurate this chart is.”

The elf sighed and went over to sit next to Zevran, he glanced at the silk, unsure what he was needed for. 

“I am unfamiliar with wild places such as this,” admitted the Antivan. “Give me the streets of a city and I am one with them, but here....” He sighed and shook his head, then glanced sidelong at Fenris. “You are sick at heart, _carissimi_. You are angry with him, but also very much worried unless I miss my guess, no?” He kept his voice low, speaking softly in Tevene.

“Yes, he is not acting normal. But I hate being coddled and kept in the dark.” Fenris replied as he leaned in close so he could whisper in reply.

“I know, _mi amor_ \- and so does he,” added Zevran as he slipped an arm comfortingly around Fenris, his thumb rubbing small circles absently against the taller elf’s back. “He meant well, and likely feels remorse for hurting you. Maybe keep your distance a while until your anger is less fierce, hmm? Walk with me a while, and perhaps you and he can talk later when the hurt is not quite so fresh and raw.”

“Perhaps, but I do not trust Solona has not done something to him. He’s not acting as usual, and that it comes on the heels of their talk makes me even more suspect.” Fenris said as he leaned into Zevran’s comforting touch.

Zevran nodded. “I do not know Anders as well as you and Hawke or even Nathaniel do, but this does seem out of character for him though I am glad he no longer seems so miserable. Still, such a change... such things do not happen for no reason, no?” He inclined his head. “I shall keep watch also, _carissimi_. He does not seem inclined to ... partake in what lies between you and I, _mi amor_ , but I am... fond of him as a friend in my own way and I would not see him come to harm.”

“I don’t mean him harm, I am just...I am not alright being here and worrying for him is not helping. Nor is the nagging doubt about her in my mind. I do not wish to travel with someone I cannot trust at my back. Not here, especially not here.” the elf said tiredly. His exhaustion and anger wore on him, and it finally showed in how he nearly slipped off the rock he’d perched on.

Zevran’s arm tightened around the other elf. “Easy, my heart - you are exhausted,” said Zevran, frowning in concern. He reached into his belt pouch and produced a small vial of a silvery liquid. “Here - this may help. It is an augmented invigoration potion. I use it when I have to maintain alertness and stamina for a long night.”

“Thank you.” Fenris downed it and felt better physically, emotionally was a different matter. “I am sorry to be so difficult.” he muttered.

“Hush,” murmured Zevran as he leaned in to silence the warrior with a tender kiss, tasting the bittersweet potion upon the other’s lips. He tilted his head, inviting Fenris to claim his mouth in return as he pressed his palm against the small of Fenris’ back.

The taller elf responded in kind, until he pulled back and glanced at the soft foliage under his feet. “I wouldn’t mind a tumble but this isn’t the right place, or time I’m afraid.” Fenris said quietly.

“Then tonight we will find a quiet place, you and I, and you may do to me anything you desire,” Zevran promised softly. He gave Fenris a wicked grin. “You may exact retribution upon me for my shameful display earlier if you like.” He winked.

“Perhaps, being in these jungles again brings back bad memories and I am uneasy no matter how far we stray from Fog Warriors and Tal-Vashoth. If it will ease my nerves perhaps I will be able to enjoy you.” Fenris smiled and gave Zevran another light kiss before he pulled back and stared at the forest floor.

“We shall make new memories, _carissimi_ ,” promised Zevran before glancing up at the sky through the forest canopy to gauge the time. “We must move on soon,” he said.

“Agreed.” Fenris stood and brushed himself off before he glanced at the others, then took his place at Zevran’s side so they could move on.

Solona took a step towards Anders then glanced at Fenris and hung back. Anders was snoring quietly, his head resting against his pack, one hand flung over his eyes as he dozed.

Invictus went over and nudged Anders gently to wake him. “Come on sleeping beauty, time to get a move on.”

Anders came awake in an instant, lowering his arm as he sat up. “Time to move on?” he asked, glancing around. “Right-oh.” He stood up and hefted his pack onto his shoulder again and smiled at Invictus.

Vic gave him a worried look as he stood up. “Definitely not normal.” he muttered to himself as he grabbed his things. “Walk with me again?” he asked.

Fenris looked at Zevran and tilted his head at the blond apostate as if to say see, that is not normal Anders behaviour. Zevran glanced at the apostate then nodded grimly.

“Certainly!” said Anders, slinging an arm loosely around Invictus’ waist as they dropped in behind Zevran and Fenris. He dropped his eyes to stare at Fenris’ feet contritely. Nakusa stepped up silently behind the two mages, feeling ill at ease being the only member of the party unburdened by a pack.

Solona and Nathaniel brought up the rear, Solona stowing her maps away inside her robes.

Fenris turned and frowned when he saw Nakusa by himself. “Join us brother, you should not walk alone.” he called to the other elf. Nakusa glanced round; Anders and Invictus were just in front of him, Solona and Nathaniel just behind.

“I’m... not alone...?” he said quizzically, but he shrugged and moved forward to fall in on Fenris’ other side.

Solona’s eyes bored into Anders’ back but the blond apostate was oblivious as they moved off, his gaze not remaining on the ground long before it started drifting, distracted by the greenery they were passing and then by the flight of a brilliant green bird that flew through the canopy of the trees high overhead, screaming raucously. 

“I hated those things when I could hear them screeching all over the island.” Fenris said as he tracked the colourful bird as they went. “They are rather filling though, and satisfying to dine on after they’ve kept you up half the night.”

“It’s beautiful,” said Anders wonderingly. “Its feathers are gorgeous. I’ve never seen a bird so colourful before.”

“Then catch one and pluck it for your pauldrons.” Fenris sniped under his breath.

Anders reached up and fingered a feather self-consciously before dropping his gaze to the forest floor once more. He had his reasons for keeping his pauldrons, and privately he thought he preferred to see those iridescent green feathers stay on the birds.

Fenris tracked the birds as they flew around and wished he could escape the group to hunt them, or anything else for that matter. He had a few good memories of Seheron, but those were for him alone. “We should move on.” he said tiredly.

Vic squeezed Anders hand and shot him a sympathetic look. “He’ll be ok later, just give him space.” he whispered to his lover as they went. Anders nodded, still fingering a black feather.

Zevran led them on through the forest, the trees thinning as they got closer to the coastline. “We should stay in the forest as long as possible,” he said quietly, his gaze alert as he scanned the trees. “The Qunari do not like entering the forest, from what I have seen. We should be fairly safe from their patrols as long as we are not on open ground, though we will have to leave the trees eventually.”

“Great.” Fenris muttered. “Any chance we can make camp soon?” he was getting irritable with how long they remained in the trees. He had to force himself to remember he wasn’t on the run, he was free and he could leave once their business was concluded. 

“Another hour, _carissimi_ ,” promised Zevran. “And then you may have your wicked way with me, yes?”

“Right now I’d settle for not walking through this damned jungle.” Fenris replied. 

“Love, we’re all tired can you stop being so damned snippy with us?” Vic snapped at him.

“As you wish Invictus, I won’t say another word then.” Fenris trudged on next to Zevran, his mood getting worse as they went.

“Don’t pull that on me, you don’t let me get away with it so don’t you start, love.” Vic said in a harsh whisper as they continued on.

Zevran kept his glance firmly on the path ahead, giving no sign he’d heard any of their exchange. An hour later, he halted.

“Here,” he said, gesturing to a small clearing.

Fenris found a mossy log and dropped down with a groan. 

Vic settled next to Anders and avoided looking to his elven lover. Whatever mood had taken him, he was going to let him be.

Zevran unslung his satchel and picked up his water canteen, then glanced around. “There was a stream back there; I am going to refill my canteen,” he said to no-one in particular before heading off into the undergrowth.

Fenris dropped his bag but took his sword and canteen as he rose to follow the other elf.

Zevran made his way to the stream and refilled his canteen then stripped out of his leather tunic and undershirt. He was topless, his back to Fenris as the other elf emerged from the undergrowth.

“You are not subtle, not one bit.” Fenris murmured as he made his way to the other elf. He leaned in and bit Zevran on the neck, hard enough to leave a mark. “Take me, I need to not remember where I am. Not to think of my past, and what was done here before.” he said in the other elf’s ear.

Zevran blinked. “Ah. I had assumed....” He glanced down at the vial of oil in his hand and then shrugged. “If this is what you need, _carissimi_ , then very well. One may lose oneself in many ways, after all.”

“I...changed my mind. The memories are too much, I’m sorry. I fear I am becoming that person I hate. The one who throws walls up to keep safe and it’s making me unpleasant to be with.” Fenris leaned forward until his head rested on Zevran’s shoulder. “If you’d rather not, I understand. I feel...safe giving in to you, and...I know you won’t think me weak for needing this.”

“You are never weak, _mi amor_ , though you may doubt me,” replied Zevran, kissing him gently. “Though I may need you to return the favour at some point; I had rather looked forward to you taking out some of your aggressions on me.” He smiled wickedly. “But no matter. I can give as well as receive, if such is your desire.”

“I’d rather do that where we truly have privacy. I do not wish to suffer another tantrum from her.” Fenris sighed and leaned back to look into Zev’s golden eyes. “What is your choice? I will abide by what you ask of me.”

Zevran stared up at him, his expression empathic as he lifted a hand to stroke Fenris’ face. “What is it you would have me do, _carissimi_?” he asked gently. “I told you before: you may do with me as you wish. If your wish is to ride me instead of take me then I will do that for you. If you wish to be free to let loose your anger and be rough, my body is yours to use as you see fit. What do you need, _carissimi_ \- release, or mindlessness? or the two together? One may lose one’s mind in release....”

“Mindlessness, use me Zev. I just need to ...be elsewhere up here for a while.” Fenris said quietly as he leaned into the other elf’s touch. “I’ll return the favor when we next rest at a proper inn.”

Zevran nodded slowly. “Then do one thing first for me, _carissimi_ ; I would feel your teeth upon me,” he breathed quietly.

“Where upon you?” Fenris asked with a hint of a smile. In answer, Zevran threw his head back and bared his throat.

“As you wish… _carissimi_ ” Fenris whispered against his skin before he bit the sun kissed skin.

Zevran’s eyes flew wide open as the word registered in his mind. He quivered in Fenris’ arms, and then as the other elf’s teeth sank into his flesh he whimpered with longing. 

He would have begged Fenris to reconsider and take him, hard and fast, right there and then but instead he surrendered to Fenris’ teeth as they worried at the fragile skin of his throat. The Antivan elf moaned needily, his mind whirling in shock at hearing the longed-for and oft-dreamed words finally purr from Fenris’ lips. He was his, utterly and completely, and he would do anything Fenris commanded him in that moment.

The taller elf pulled away and smiled at Zevran. “Alright, still with me?” he tilted Zevran’s face towards him. “What would you have of me? Last chance to change your mind.”

Zevran’s eyes were glazed as he stared into Fenris’ face. “ _Carissimi... mi amor..._ my heart....” he babbled quietly. “Take me. Please. I am yours. Please.” He was shivering in Fenris’ arms.

“Why do you shake like that?” Fenris asked as he laced his fingers with the shorter Antivan elf’s. “Sit down before you fall down.”

“I have dreamed of hearing you say that word, my heart,” replied Zevran. “To finally hear it....” Pressed together as they were, Fenris could feel the Antivan’s heart racing, and it occurred to Fenris that perhaps very few people had ever said that word to Zevran and actually meant it. The former Crow was in shock, overwhelmed.

“I did not mean to send you into such a fit by admitting this to you.” Fenris said as he dropped to a nearby log and took Zevran into his arms. “What will help?”

“A moment, give me a moment,” murmured Zevran. “Just hold me. I will be... I will recover momentarily, I never thought....”

“Anything you need, _carissimi_ ,” Fenris whispered as he held Zevran in his arms, and worried at the other elf’s earlobe and shoulder as they sat together. Zevran groaned softly, tilting his head to one side so Fenris could reach more of his flesh with his teeth.

“Claim me. Mark me. Take me. Make me completely yours, _mi amor_ ,” breathed Zevran.

“Truly, mine?” Fenris asked as he tugged Zevran’s hair in his hands and pulled. “Strip me, then get the oil.”

Zevran obeyed, dropping to his knees between Fenris’ legs as he reached for the lacings of his pants, swiftly and deftly undressing the other elf. He pressed the vial of oil into Fenris’ palm then stood and swiftly shed his boots and pants before kneeling at Fenris’ feet, naked.

The taller elf arched an eyebrow at his eagerness. “So wanton.” he murmured before he placed his free hand on top of Zevran’s head and nudged him forward. “Prepare yourself for me.” he dangled the vial of oil in front of the Antivan’s face with a leer. 

Zevran took the vial then lay back upon the fallen leaves and drew up his knees, parting his legs as he oiled his fingers before reaching down to work a finger into himself. He arched his back and groaned softly as he worked the digit in and out, slipping a second finger in beside the first. He trailed his free hand across his chest then tweaked a nipple hard as he thrust his fingers deeper into himself, stretching himself as he fucked himself with his own hand. “Oh _carissimi_ ,” he breathed.

“Maker…” Fenris said before he knelt before the other elf and watched him come undone for him. “You should see how you look right now.” he pulled Zev’s hand free, and coated himself so he could slide into the other elf. 

Zevran lifted his head so he could look down and watch as Fenris slid into him, then let his head fall back with a low, throaty moan as he was slowly and steadily impaled upon Fenris’ cock, filled almost impossibly tight. 

“Maker…” Fenris breathed as he leaned forward to kiss Zevran as he started to stroke slowly in and out. “Tight...so tight.” he gasped.

Zevran returned the kiss fervently, sliding his hands into the raven hair then drawing Fenris’ head down as he arched his neck, craving the feel of his teeth once more. “ _Carissimi, carissimi, carissimi_ ,” he moaned as he wrapped his legs around Fenris’ waist, crossing his ankles against the small of the other elf’s back and canting his hips so Fenris could thrust deeper.

Fenris tilted his head and sunk his teeth into the same spot he’d worried earlier as he sped his thrusts. He growled as he moved, sure he was going to lose himself sooner than later with the way Zevran writhed against him. Zevran whimpered as he felt Fenris’ teeth break the skin.

“Ah, my love, my love!” he panted. 

Fenris pulled back as he felt himself losing against the urge to hold back. “Can’t ...control myself, sorry.” he panted softly as his strokes became erratic and he began to fill Zevran.

Zevran ran his hands through Fenris’ hair then across his own skin, flicking and pinching his own nipples until they pebbled, arching his back as he gave little whimpering cries, trying to reach his own orgasm. “ _Carissimi_... touch me... please,” he begged, needing something more to take him over the edge.

Fenris tugged his earlobe between his teeth while he let his fingers caress the other elf lightly. "Come for me," he moaned in Zev's ear as he stroked the elf slowly.

Zevran arched into his touch, writhing and shuddering as each slow pump of Fenris’ fist brought him closer and closer. “Please, more... I need more,” he begged as he thrust his hips mindlessly up into Fenris’ grip. “Something... anything... more.”

Fenris bared his own neck to the blond elf. "Mark me in return." he panted as he felt Zevran continue to clench on him, and he sped his strokes.

Zevran mouthed and suckled at Fenris’ throat, laving the dark skin with kisses and tongue before sinking his teeth lightly into the flesh, rolling it between his teeth, testing how much pain the other elf would tolerate. His breath hissed through his nose as his chest heaved, his body racked by occasional shudders as he came slowly closer towards climax.

"Fuck...fuck...Zev." Fenris whined as his hand sped up and he tried to keep from rolling them over and trying to shag him again. Suddenly he smiled and slid down to take Zevran in his mouth, fingers in his hair encouraged his partner to guide him.

Zevran threw his head back with a low, tremulous groan as he felt the heat of Fenris’ mouth enclose his cock. “Oh ... oh... oh....” he panted, almost beyond words.

Fenris bobbed his head faster as he tried to coax Zev towards orgasm. He glanced at the Antivan’s belt pouches lying nearby and spotted a flash of silver. He would have grinned if he didn't have a mouthful of cock.

Zevran was writhing mindlessly beneath Fenris, moaning inarticulate pleas. He reached back to finger himself again, fucking himself with two fingers even as Fenris claimed his cock with his mouth.

The taller elf pulled off to catch his breath. "Insatiable. Can you fit more than two?" He leaned down to kiss Zev before he nipped and kissed his way down the elf's chest and stomach.

“Could... take your whole hand....” gasped Zevran as he slipped a third finger in, working the digits faster as he thrust into his own body. “Fenris... _carissimi_... please....”

Fenris took him into his mouth again, his cheeks hollowed as he sucked hard as he could. He felt his cock stirring with interest as he let his free hand roam over Zevran while he pleasured him.

Zevran pulled his hand free of his body to grasp Fenris’ wandering hand, guiding it back to his entrance as he keened faintly in the back of his throat. “Oh please... please... please,” he almost chanted on each exhale.

Fenris pulled free so he could do as Zev wanted. He carefully worked his way to to four fingers before he ticked his thumb in to form a narrow 'v' and work his hand fully into the Antivan. 

"Alright?" he asked quietly.

Zevran’s eyes were closed tight as he moaned softly. “Oh... so full... s-so good...” he breathed. “Move... please....” As Fenris drew his fist back out a little then thrust slowly back in, Zevran cried out, his body shuddering. “Yes... yes... yes....”

Satisfied he wasn't hurting his lover, Fenris leaned over and took Zevran into his mouth again, and split his attention between sucking and using his hands to bring Zevran over the edge.

Zevran was reduced to frantic whimpering and incoherent babbling in a mixture of Trade, Tevene and his native Antivan as he writhed and shuddered beneath Fenris until he threw his head back with a strangled gasp and came, his whole body spasming as his cock twitched and filled Fenris’ mouth and throat with his seed as his eyes rolled back.

Fenris swallowed quickly, then pulled away with a slight pop. He withdrew his hand carefully then went to the stream to wash his hands before he tried to rouse Zevran. "Hey, still with me?”

Zevran murmured something indistinct in Antivan, his eyes closed.

"I need words, whole words so I know you're alright." Fenris said as he traced Zevran's features with the tips of his wet fingers.

“Nng. Nuh. Um. A’right,” Zevran managed inarticulately. “Maker.”

"Just Fenris will do," the Tevinter elf said with a smirk. "Come, we should wash up and get back to camp."

“Can’t move,” Zevran slurred, his eyes still closed. “Broke me.”

"I see." Fenris stretched before he glanced at the water, then back at Zevran before a mischievous grin appeared. "I'll help you."

The Tevinter elf picked Zevran, ran into the stream and let him land in the cold, clear water as he cackled.

Zevran hit the water with a surprised yell, gasping at the cold water before it closed over his head, one hand flailing above the surface. He struggled then sat up, coughing and spluttering as he tried to catch his breath, shaking wet hair out of his face as he stared around. He was fully wide awake.

“That... was _evil_ of you, _mi amor_!” he chided.

Fenris merely smiled as he stood in the waist high water and watched Zevran flail around.

Zevran stared up at Fenris, kneeling in the water that came up to his neck. "Do you often try to drown your lovers, _carissimi_?" he asked. "I do not object to a little breathplay - indeed, it can add an enjoyable _frisson_ , no? - but a little warning would be nice."

"Not really, I've got a bit of...mischief in me. Are you alright?" he asked right before he felt his feet go out from under him and he went under for a moment. Fenris broke the surface and tried to glare at Zevran but laughed instead. "Well played."

Zevran drifted closer, guiding Fenris’ hands to his own shoulders as he sunk lower in the water, his raven-black hair fanning out like ink around his face. “Kiss me breathless,” he whispered.

Fenris smiled and bent down to claim his mouth then slowly pushed him down beneath the water’s surface, following him down.

Supper could wait.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders discovers that not all cats are friendly, and Fenris finds a past debt is about to come due....

Anders sat by himself, picking at the remains of his meal as he stared into space, humming quietly to himself. He didn't glance in the direction the two elves had gone or meet Invictus' gaze as he absently pulled a piece of bread to pieces between his fingers

Fenris led Zevran back to the campsite, a self-satisfied grin on his face at the way the other elf walked. He glanced at the others, his smile held firm as he sat on a rock and stretched out between Invictus and Zevran, Anders within in touching range of him. Zevran gave a satisfied sigh as he stretched then he rolled onto his side and closed his eyes, asleep within minutes.

Anders glanced up at them, then dropped his gaze to his plate as he continued to shred the piece of bread into crumbs, his face not giving away a hint of the thoughts inside.

“If you’re not going to eat, leave it for the birds, it will make one easier to catch and roast.” Fenris said in a low purr. He was feeling better and nothing was going to bring his mood down, even Solona’s continued presence.

"Maybe I will," said Anders quietly. His fingers stilled.

“Don’t complain you’re hungry later then.” Fenris said as he reached past Invictus for his pack so he could get rations and his own canteen. 

Nathaniel snorted. "You didn't see how much he packed away earlier. He's in no danger of starving."

“Then don’t waste food if you’re not hungry. We’ve got limited rations Anders.” Fenris leaned back and sighed in contentment.

“Don’t be that way love, just because you shagged Zevran ten ways from Feast day doesn’t mean the rest of us are so relaxed.” Vic said quietly.

Zevran shifted slightly where he lay next to Fenris then relaxed in sleep once more. Anders glanced sidelong at him then away, rubbing absently at the old scar over his heart.

“As you wish Vic.” Fenris finished off his food and stretched out. “Once we move tomorrow, hopefully we will be close enough to reach her by end of day.” 

"That's the plan," agreed Anders as his eyes followed the gliding flight of a blue bird with a long, trailing green and gold tail.

“Hmm, I see. What to do until then?” Fenris muttered as he looked over his nails. He knew good and well Anders wanted something from him, but he wasn’t going to give the mage what he wanted.

Anders got up and dusted leaves off his pants before peeling off his coat. "I'm going to bathe," he announced as he headed off in the direction of the stream, tugging the leather hairtie from his ponytail as he passed Fenris without glancing at him.

Invictus waited until Anders was out of sight before he flicked the tip of Fenris’ ear. “Go talk to him, he’s been sulking and watching for you the entire time you were gone.” 

Nakusa looked puzzled. "I did not see him sulking?" he said uncertainly, glancing in the direction Anders had gone.

“Anders has perfected it to an art form.” Vic said. 

“I will not go because you tell me to Invictus. He sat there that whole time itching to speak but didn’t. I’m not chasing anyone.” Fenris rubbed at his ear and glared at his lover. “Do that again, you lose fingers.”

Nathaniel sighed. "Stop being an ass, Fenris," he said as he frowned at the elf. "Go after him or I will. It's not safe for any of us to be out there alone."

“What did I tell you about speaking to me archer?” Fenris snapped as he made to rise. He gave Invictus a last dark look before he took up his sword and headed off in the direction that Anders had gone. 

As he got closer to the stream, he heard a low growling noise just up ahead that made his blood run cold. He’d heard that sound before, many years ago. He broke into a run.

He emerged into the small clearing near the stream to find his fears confirmed; Anders was pressed against the trunk of a tree, clad only in his pants, an immense big cat with striped tawny and golden fur pinning him there with its claws pressed against his bare chest. Anders’ face was turned towards Fenris, his eyes closed as he kept perfectly still, the creature sniffing his throat. The blond apostate held himself perfectly still as the immense beast opened its jaws and lightly grazed his throat with its teeth as it drew back its lips in a snarl.

Fenris paused. If he startled the beast, it might attack Anders or otherwise harm him as it turned to face the threat. The claws pressing into Anders’ skin were long and sharp, several inches long; they would rend the apostate’s flesh like paper.

The elf moved slowly as he spoke softly in his native tongue to the creature. He rustled foliage as he went in the hope it would hear that and leave Anders alone. “Anders…be still, be perfectly still. Do not run if it comes towards me, just be still.” 

The big cat turned bright gold eyes in Fenris’ direction and twitched its ears, licking its lips slowly. The only sign that Anders had heard Fenris was a brief flicker of his eyelids; otherwise the mage held perfectly still.

The beast made a low huffing sound then turned back to the blond apostate, nuzzling his chin with its nose before dragging a large, wet, rough tongue up his neck and the side of his face. Anders made a very faint whimpering sound and his fingers very slowly curled into fists before he stilled himself. The tiger pricked its ears at the sound and then opened its immense jaws as it leaned closer.

Fenris’ heart felt like it was going to hammer right out of his chest as he decided to get the tiger’s attention away from Anders. “No, don’t!” he yelled as he darted to the side to draw the cat’s attention to him.

The tiger’s jaws were around Anders’ throat but the tiger paused, not closing them as its ears twitched. The blond mage had gone as white as a sheet and Fenris thought he looked on the verge of fainting dead away any second. The tiger pulled its head away slightly and licked Anders’ face again then looked back at Fenris as its claws slowly flexed into Anders’ skin then retracted a little. Anders’ eyes flew open and he bit his lip hard to keep himself silent; Fenris could see his knuckles whiten as Anders drove his nails into his palms in an effort to keep still and silent as blood trickled down his chest. The amber eyes turned in Fenris’ direction were glazed in terror.

“That’s right…come after me.” Fenris taunted the creature as he circled it and kept it’s gaze on him. “I’m not easy prey...come on.” he said as he tried to get the cat to leave Anders alone.

The tiger made the odd huffing sound again then sniffed the blood trickling down Anders’ chest. The mage was trembling, and as the tiger opened its terrible jaws again his eyes rolled back in his head and he fainted dead away.

The tiger seemed perplexed as its fascinating new toy abruptly went limp beneath its paws; It dropped back down to the ground and Anders crumpled in a limp heap at the foot of the tree. The tiger nosed his damp blond hair curiously then hooked a massive paw over one arm and rolled the unconscious mage over onto his back, sniffing his face before looking up at Fenris.

Then it turned and silently paced off into the forest.

Fenris waited until the beast was gone and stumbled over to Anders. He didn’t try to wake him, he just threw the mage over his shoulder and ran as fast as he could back to camp. He stumbled through the brush just as his legs gave out from under him, sending both elf and mage to the ground.

The others leapt to their feet in alarm at Fenris’ entrance, Nathaniel and Solona making for Anders as the others leapt towards Fenris. Zevran was the first to reach the fallen elf, helping him to sit up.

“ _Carissimi_ , what happened? Are you hurt? Where are you wounded?” asked the Antivan, his fingers searching for any injury.

“Anders? Anders, can you hear me? Maker, what scratched him?” exclaimed Nathaniel as he and Solona rolled the unconscious mage over onto his back and tried unsuccessfully to rouse him.

“C...cat...jungle...cat. Big cat.” Fenris stuttered as he started to tremble in Zevran’s arms. “Was gonna eat...him.” 

“A... _cat_?” said Nathaniel incredulously. “Anders fainted over a _cat_?”

“Giant cat, bigger than me.” Fenris mumbled before his eyes rolled shut and he slumped over.

Invictus knew it wasn’t funny but he let out a hysterical giggle at the idea of them running from a cat. He coughed and went over to Fenris since Solona and Nathaniel seemed to have Anders taken care of. He helped Zevran lay the other elf out and rested Fenris’ head against his leg before he cast Rejuvenate on him. “Wake up love, it’s alright, you’re safe now.”

Anders’ eyes flickered and then suddenly flew open as he screamed, scrabbling backwards away from Solona and Nathaniel in sheer blind panic.

Fenris had opened his eyes in time to hear Anders scream, it made him jump nearly out of Zevran’s hold and into Nakusa. “Stop screaming.” 

“You’re back at camp, Anders...you’re safe.” Invictus said as he rose to help the blond apostate.

Anders had backed himself up against a fallen log, his fingers clawing at the dirt. He sat there, chest heaving, as he slowly realised he was no longer face to face with the tiger and Invictus’ voice registered with him.

“C-c-c-cat. B-big cat. C-c-cat,” he stammered at the dark mage.

“Fenris told us, right before he passed out.” Vic said softly, his hands out towards Anders. “Come on, let me look at your chest, you’re still bleeding a bit.”

“Bleeding, I’m... I’m bleeding?” Anders dropped his gaze to his chest and lifted a hand to touch the lacerations then paused to stare at the bloodied crescents his nails had carved into his palm. He tasted blood in his mouth and his tongue probed at the spot where he’d bitten his lip through. He suddenly began to shake as the adrenaline began to drain away, realising he was actually safe and not about to be eaten by the biggest damned cat he’d ever seen in his life.

“Yes, you’re bleeding.” Invictus said as he closed the gap between them and helped Anders to his feet. 

“One of you get me water, soap if you can spare it and some cloth that’s clean.” Vic said as he helped Anders back over to the log he’d been on before they’d crashed through the trees.

Fenris crawled over and hugged Anders from behind, his arms tight around the former warden’s waist. Anders’ hands dropped to rest over Fenris’ fingers. 

“Thank the Maker you came when you did,” he murmured.

Nakusa brought a waterskin and Solona’s bar of soap over to Invictus then fetched clean cloths and the injury kit from Anders’ backpack.

“I...don’t talk. Just let Vic work, I’m going to go and fall apart by that tree over there.” Fenris murmured against his back.

“Thanks Nakusa,” Vic said as he wet a cloth and wiped at the drying blood before he warmed another cloth, soaped it up and dabbed at the cuts. “Once I’m done you should heal these.” the Champion said quietly.

Fenris pulled back so he would be out of the way, made his way to a nearby tree and sat down as he began to shake slightly.

“I don’t understand,” frowned Nathaniel. “You didn’t faint when we faced the broodmother or any number of darkspawn or wyvernlings. What’s so different about a big cat?”

“The broodmother wasn’t sniffing and licking my face then closing jaws with teeth as long as my fingers around my throat, and I wasn’t nearly naked and without my staff when we faced darkspawn and wyverns,” pointed out Anders. “Besides, I _did_ faint when we faced the broodmother. Well, I puked and fainted after we’d killed her,” he qualified.

“Oh, so you did,” nodded Nathaniel. “I’d forgotten that bit.”

“You were concussed at the time because she dropped you on your head,” pointed out Solona. “You weren’t exactly paying attention to anything at that point.”

Fenris curled in on himself and tried to keep his own panic inside, he wasn’t even hurt but they didn’t need to know he was a hair away from passing out or sobbing. Those things had hunted him during his escape, they terrified him and if anyone teased him about it, someone was going to lose vital organs.

Zevran crossed over to the log and sat astride it, slipping his arms around Fenris. “You are safe, _carissimi_ ,” he murmured. “Such creatures will not come near our camp fire.”

“Not safe… not safe.” Fenris repeated as he turned into Zevran’s embrace, his trembling worsening despite how warm the other elf was. Zevran’s arms tightened around him.

“You _are_ safe, my love,” he insisted as he rubbed small circles against Fenris’ back with his thumbs. “You are safe, and Anders is safe, and tomorrow we shall leave the forest and all shall be well, yes?”

“Not until we’re home, not until we’re home and safe, and out of Seheron.” Fenris whimpered as he curled against Zevran. 

Zevran’s hand drifted down to his belt pouch and he fingered a vial of a swift-acting sedative he kept for certain situations when he didn’t need to kill. A dose would put the elf out in under a minute; a smaller amount might calm him. He glanced up at Invictus and he surreptitiously showed him the vial then almost imperceptibly nodded at Fenris in mute request for permission.

Invictus frowned, he didn’t like the idea of drugging Fenris but his lover was on his way to a melt down if he didn’t rest. He gave a slow nod yes then turned back to Anders. 

Zevran lightly trailed his fingers over the light cuts and scrapes on the elf’s body, and then anointed his fingers with the potion before repeating the strokes, subtly working the liquid into the cuts. It didn’t take long before the potion took effect and Fenris grew drowsy.

“You are falling asleep on me, _carissimi_ ; you must be exhausted,” he murmured as he helped Fenris to lie down, tugging the elf’s pack over for a pillow. “Rest, I will watch over you, yes?”

“Not fooling me...felt wetness on fingers…” Fenris mumbled as he fell asleep, head on his pack and soon he was snoring softly.

Zevran checked his breathing; satisfied that Fenris would sleep deeply, he rose to his feet and approached Anders and Invictus. He tilted his head to one side and nodded towards the mage who had slumped against Invictus, still trembling with the after effects of so much adrenaline racing through his body.

Vic held Anders to him and whispered reassurances that he was safe, and cared for. “Let’s lie down at least, sitting up on this log can’t help either of us.” 

Zevran circled around behind Anders and raised an eyebrow at Invictus as Anders shook his head.

“No... don’t want to sleep. What if it comes back?” he asked, agitated, as he sat up straighter. “It knows my scent. It was sniffing me... It knows me now.”

“It’s not going to come here, we have a fire and a lot of people. Just rest love, you won’t be any good tomorrow if you don’t sleep.” Vic barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes and motioned at Zevran to get on with it.

Zevran drew a small, wickedly sharp and needle-thin knife from the back of his leather vambrace and dripped a few drops of the potion onto the blade. He leaned forward and rested a hand on Anders’ bare shoulder. “Relax, my friend,” he murmured as he drew the edge of the blade across the blond apostate’s shoulderblade. The blade was so sharp that Anders never felt the cut; a moment later his head drooped.

Invictus laid the blond mage down and gave a sigh. “You are far too adept at that.” he murmured as he watched Anders sleep. 

Zevran laughed hollowly. “It is what I have been doing since I was fourteen, what I was trained to do from the age of seven when I was bought by the Crows,” he replied. “Everything I have ever been taught has been all to make me a more efficient killer, the blade in the shadows that everyone fears,” he said quietly. “If now I can put such skills to more benign uses? It can only be to the good.” He stared down at the sleeping mage. “I do not have to take a life every time I draw a blade,” he said softly.

Nakusa had stolen over to where his brother lay and dragged the immense two-handed sword with him, laying it close by Fenris’ hand so he would find it easily when he woke. Across the camp, Nathaniel was cleaning out his cooking pot near the cookfire as Solona rose to gather more firewood from beneath the nearest trees, her eyes alert as she stared out into the darkness of the forest.

Invictus nodded and went over to the campfire, he wasn’t going to sleep any time soon. Not after the way both his lovers had been rattled.

Solona returned to the fire and built it up. The night was warm but none of them wanted to risk the tiger coming back.

They set watches through the night, leaving Anders and Fenris to sleep. By morning they were glad of the warmth of the fire as a cold mist stole through the trees. Anders woke groggily to find the world around their camp had turned foggy and indistinct.

Fenris sat up and rubbed at his eyes. “What the in the Void?” he muttered.

Nakusa handed him a mug of tea. “It is only mist,” he shrugged. “It will burn off when the sun rises higher.”

“Where are the others, Zevran drugged me.” Fenris muttered as he took the drink from his sibling.

Invictus sat up coughing as he inhaled too deeply of the mist that surrounded them.

Solona frowned at the mist then gestured. A wave of heat rippled outwards from her hand followed by a very weak force blast, driving away the mist from their camp so they could see one another.

Anders accepted a mug of tea from Nathaniel and sat up, huddled in his blanket, hands wrapped around the mug as he inhaled the steam then sipped slowly. “Are mists like this common on Seheron? I thought it was too warm for that?”

“Not common...Fog Warriors may be nearby. They have a way to make this happen.” Fenris said in a low voice. “We need to go.”

“Fog warriors?” Anders frowned. “Wait - aren’t they...?”

“Seheron natives,” replied Zevran. “Not part of the Tevinter Imperium, not Qunari, not Tal-Vashoth. They seek their own independence and hold allegiance to none but their own.”

“But who are they? Humans?” asked Nathaniel, intrigued.

“For the most part, though there are also kossith and elves among them who have escaped either the Qun or the Imperium and earned a place amongst their ranks,” answered Zevran.

“We have to go.” Fenris repeated as he scrabbled to get his pack and sword across his back. “Talk later, leave now.” he said as he looked around frantically for anything they could have left.

Invictus followed his lead and grabbed his things. “Well, get moving. I don’t want to be here for them to find.”

“But wait - might they be able to help us?” suggested Nathaniel, looking confused. “We’re trying to free someone from the Qunari after all.”

“They’re probably not inclined to be friendly, Nathaniel,” said Anders as he hastily cast ice on the fire, extinguishing it as he tugged on his coat.

Fenris started off towards the coastline, the sooner he put the forest behind him the better. “Vic, Anders, Zev...hurry.”

They moved off together, casting nervous glances around as they moved off through the forest towards the outskirts. Even Solona was picking up on the urgency of the others, though Nathaniel looked around with curiosity.

The fog was lingering and if anything thickening around them. Though the sun must be rising high overhead by now, it was failing to drive off the mist that seemed to cling to the trees almost like a living thing, weaving its tendrils around them.

“They know we are here,” breathed Zevran quietly. “But are we their prey - or the Qunari?”

“Possibly me...for my past transgressions.” Fenris said in a whisper as he hurried towards the edge of the trees; they could distantly make out the eaves of the forest up ahead.

“Love, this isn’t the same tribe… or related?” Vic asked quietly in Tevene. He was about to grab the elf’s arm to keep him from running ahead in a blind panic. This was what he’d feared about the return to this damned place. If Fenris lost his head, it would be difficult to get him back without knocking him out.

“What was that?” said Nathaniel suddenly.

“I saw it too,” said Nakusa. “A warrior in white armour with white skin.”

“Fog Warrior,” said Anders. “Do we run for it or do we stand?”

“Stand...running will make it worse.” Fenris said as he stopped and hung his head. 

“Love, we won’t let them have you.” Vic whispered.

There was the hiss of an arrow and then a thud as it embedded itself into the trunk of a tree, pinning Anders’ coat through the collar. He rolled his eyes to stare down at the shaft as it quivered, the wood lightly brushing his bare neck, and he threw down his staff and raised his hands slowly, staring out into the fog.

“We mean no harm.” Fenris called out in a tongue none of them would know except the warrior that had pinned his lover to a tree. “We seek only to pass through with no conflict. I ask that we be allowed to do so.” he held his hands up in the gesture taught to him by the others he’d known.

More arrows whizzed out of the fog; Nathaniel was pinned to a tree through his collar and one sleeve, and Solona by her robes at neck, wrist and hip. Zevran hissed in pain as his head was yanked back painfully and a knife placed against his throat; the warrior holding him glared at Fenris. She was an elf, her pale white-gold hair dusted with chalk and her skin painted white. Even her leather armour was white, and the hilt of her blade was bound with white leather.

“How do you know our words, our signs?” she asked in heavily-accented Trade. Her eyes transfixed Fenris, a blue so pale she might have been made of ice or the very fog that curled tendrils around their feet.

“Many years ago, when I escaped my master I fled through these very jungles, and another tribe took me in, allowed me to stay for a time. I beg of you, allow us to pass.” Fenris didn’t recognize the elven woman, but she was of the tribe and for that he would respect her and her marksmanship, the skill it took to pin and not kill.

“You brought these others out of the Tevinter city into our lands. Magisters. Why?” Her lip curled and the knife at Zevran’s throat pressed harder. There was movement all around them, and suddenly they were surrounded by fifteen Fog Warriors. Blades were being held to their throats, all save Fenris - and, he suddenly realised, Nakusa. His brother was nowhere to be seen.

“We...we ran from the chaos in the city, we mean no harm. We hadn’t planned to come in here, but there was no option after the Qunari took the port and burned down the inn some of us were in. They are no magisters, they are free mages from the Free Marches and Ferelden. We merely seek to pass through and rescue a friend from the Qunari, that is all I swear.” Fenris said in a mix of Trade and the Fog Warrior’s own dialect. He didn’t dare look around for his sibling, if he could escape or help them get free, the elven fighter wouldn’t dare lose that chance.

Invictus knew better than to speak, though he wanted to help Fenris, this was something his lover had to handle.

The kossith who held an axe blade to Anders’ throat, a huge fist in the blond apostate’s hair, was squinting at Anders’ throat. He glanced up.

“Mhaire, this one has worn the collar.”

The elven woman frowned. She grabbed Zevran’s tunic, twisted her hip and neatly swept his feet out from under him to slam him face-first onto the ground; before Zevran could recover, another Fog Warrior had stepped forward to take her place, yanking Zevran’s head back to hold a knife to his throat, a knee pressed into the small of the Antivan’s back.

The one called Mhaire pressed two fingers to the underside of Anders’ chin and he tilted his head back further as she studied his throat. She tilted her head to one side. “It is true; he bears marks from being collared recently.” She nodded to the kossith who released Anders’ hair and lowered his axe. She gave him what was probably meant to be a welcoming grin. “We welcome all who take their freedom for themselves.”

She wrenched the arrow out of Anders’ collar and threw it aside then turned and strode back towards Zevran. As the other Fog Warrior pulled his blade away she placed her foot on the back of the Antivan’s neck, pressing his head down against the dirt. “Tell me, one who has known our people and our ways, why are you travelling with a Crow, an apostate, and two Grey Wardens? And who is this one, who wears armour yet bears a staff?” She gestured to Invictus. “You say you seek to rescue a friend. Who is this friend and how came they to be in Qunari hands here upon Seheron? You are far from Ferelden and the Free Marches.” 

Zevran curled his fingers into the dirt but kept silent beneath her foot. With the other Fog Warrior kneeling on his back he wasn’t going anywhere.

“After I left Seheron I made my way to Kirkwall, where I met him, the armored mage and eventually the blond warden you just examined. During our time in Kirkwall, another companion was ...she had stolen from the Qunari and the Arishok took her in retribution.”

Fenris paused to stare at her, then gave an apologetic look to the others. “The Crow owes her a favor and in turn Invictus owed him, so we set sail to Antiva, through Tevinter and landed just a couple days ago in Seheron. We picked up the Wardens in Tevinter, unfortunately we wound up forced to stick together in order to get to our destination, since there is safety in numbers. We seek only to rescue her to keep his word and we will never, ever set foot here again. I swear it.” 

Fenris swallowed and looked to the assembled Fog Warriors, and his companions as he prayed they were released soon.

Mhaire leaned a little on the foot that pinned Zevran, and the former Crow gasped then began to struggle as his breath was cut off. “You trust a Crow?” she said scornfully. “They have no honour. He would sell you out to the highest bidder.”

“I trust him with my life, he has proven his trustworthiness to us, and he was known to the wardens well before we met him. He is my… _Cariad_.” he said in their tongue.

Mhaire frowned; Zevran was making faint choking noises beneath her foot, his struggles weakening. “Truly?” she asked.

Anders made a faint noise of desperate protest as he stared at Zevran, wanting to run to help him but well aware that there were several bows trained on him that could fell him before he took more than a single step.

“Truly, please he’s choking to death. Allow him to rise, and if he harms me I will strike him down myself.” Fenris dropped to his knees and stared at her. " _Os gwelwch yn dda_ ".

She shrugged and lifted her foot, and Zevran gasped hoarsely for breath as the other Fog Warrior rose and stepped back. The Antivan rolled onto his side, clutching his throat as he panted raggedly. After a few moments, he turned and pushed himself to his hands and knees then stood up, walking slowly towards Fenris before dropping to his knees in front of him.

“ _Ca-carissimi_ ,” he managed to rasp.

“ _Mi cariad, carissimi_ , I am sorry, let Anders heal you.” Fenris said with a sad smile for the other elf. He turned towards Mhaire once more and bowed his head. “We speak truth, I beg of you again, let us pass.”

She gestured to Anders and the blond apostate dashed to Fenris’ side and reached out for Zevran. The Antivan closed his eyes as Anders set to work, and his breathing became less laboured as Anders healed the damage done to his throat.

Mhaire jerked her head at the kossith and the human Fog Warrior who had pinned Zevran and they went aside to talk in low voices. Then Mhaire turned back to Fenris. “You will all come with us.”

“Yes ma’am” Fenris answered as he rose to his feet and turned to the others. “Do not argue, do not fight and for the love of whatever you find holy do not even look like you are reaching for a weapon.” He stared at Solona as he spoke before he turned to the Fog Warriors.

Nathaniel kept his hands well away from his bow and knives as he was released. Solona kept her arms by her sides but lifted her chin defiantly.

“Where is the other one?” asked Mhaire as Anders helped Zevran to his feet. “The one like you but scarred?”

“I...I….” he closed his eyes briefly and then looked out towards the tree line. “Nakusa, come out, it’s alright,” Fenris called, his heart pounding as he waited for the other elf to appear. 

There was a moment’s silence, and then a glowing figure slowly appeared, manifesting in front of Mhaire, one arm reaching towards her with the hand buried up to the wrist in her chest. She stared down in shocked surprise as the lyrium ghost looked back over his shoulder at Fenris, his eyes glowing bright silvery blue. “ _Did she hurt you, brother?_ ” he asked, his voice sounding distant as though echoing across a vast distance.

“No, stop it, stop Nakusa. She didn’t hurt me, please release her.” Fenris begged in Tevene. 

“ _She hurt Zevran._ ”

“He’s alright now, Anders healed him. It’s ok, please come here.” Fenris winced as he saw the other Fog Warriors at the ready to defend their leader. “I would like to not die today, please let her go.”

There was a tense silence. Anders was acutely aware of the Fog Warrior standing just behind him, a sword levelled at his back. He didn’t dare look round.

Nakusa finally inclined his head and withdrew his hand, turning to walk towards Fenris. With each step he became more solid until finally his brands dimmed as he stood before Fenris. “Truly you are not hurt?” He glanced at the Antivan. “Zevran?”

“I have had better days, my friend, but I will be fine,” nodded the other elf.

Fenris let out a shaky breath and pulled his brother to him. “Don’t do that again, not for a while.”

Nakusa stiffened briefly at the contact then relaxed against his brother with a small pained groan. “That hurt,” he admitted quietly. “I... cannot do that often. I have been using my powers too much....”

“What was that? That... thing he did? Can you do that?” demanded Mhaire, then shook her head without waiting for an answer. “It can wait.” She held up her hand, palm facing towards the sky, and whispered. Fog poured from her hand, boiling over onto the ground then swirling about their feet, thickening as it rose all around them.

“Fog dancer,” breathed Zevran before he was swallowed up in the white mists and Fenris could no longer see him.

“Mhaire, we can’t see you.” Fenris called out.

“Fenris, where are you?” Vic called in a panic.

“Fenris? Hawke? FENRIS!” Anders’ voice rose in a panicked scream.

“Zevran? Anders!” Solona’s voice. “Nathaniel, where are you? Invictus?”

Nakusa clung to his brother. “Don’t let go or we shall be lost too,” he breathed.

Anders was screaming incoherently somewhere in the mists, but his voice seemed to be coming from further and further away. 

Fenris clung to Nakusa and called out until he couldn’t hear anyone in their group. He opened his eyes and found that the fog had lifted but they were no longer in the spot where Mhaire and her group had found them. 

“Anders, Vic, Zevran?” Fenris called again, this time his voice in a full panic as he looked around. They were standing in what seemed to be a small hall woven from living trees, the trunks close together. Sleeping platforms lined the edges of the large room and there was a firepit in the centre, the ashes cold and grey. Light filtered through the living canopy overhead where branches had been bent over and woven together.

As they stood there, fog rose up from the ground to take the form of humanoid figures then dissipated as first Zevran, then Invictus and then the two Grey Wardens appeared. Finally Anders slowly appeared, then tumbled to the floor as the fog wreathed about his body drifted away.

Fenris went to Invictus, then Anders and Zevran to embrace them. He muttered apologies as he made sure they were all fine. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry love. Are you alright?” he asked of Anders who seemed the most shell shocked.

Anders had wrapped his arms around himself and his eyes were tight closed as he shivered. “No,” he managed to mutter between white lips. “Very much not alright.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Forgive me.” Fenris asked quietly.

Invictus came over and laid a hand over Anders’ shoulder. “Is it alright if I use magic, or will they sew my mouth shut like the Qunari?” Vic asked in a low whisper.

“They are not Qunari,” said Zevran. “Were they going to treat us according to the Qun they would have done so already.”

“I just want to give Anders a bit of help, so he doesn’t pass out on us...again.” Vic murmured.

“Was just like being in solitary,” muttered Anders as he hugged himself tightly. “Couldn’t see anything. Couldn’t hear anything. Like a grey wall pressing in on me all around. Couldn’t breathe.” His breath was coming in short, sharp little pants, his eyes still closed as he curled in on himself.

Invictus cast a strong Rejuvenate spell on his lover and glanced up at Fenris to be sure he was alright. The elf seemed far too calm and he knew what that meant, an epic meltdown later.

Anders shuddered as the magic sank into him, and then slowly the tension left his body as he uncurled slightly and opened his eyes. He glanced around at the others clustered about him and seemed somewhat embarrassed. 

“I, er, seem to have made a bit of a spectacle of myself, don’t I?” he said with a nervous grin. “I’m sorry, I’ll try to keep the screaming and falling over to a minimum in future.” He sat up, one hand stealing under the edge of his feathered pauldrons to rub his chest briefly.

“Not funny, let’s get ourselves together and face our hosts.” Fenris said tersely. He was on edge and a moment from hysterics but he didn't’ dare show it.

Anders got to his feet, brushing dust off his clothes. “Who’s joking?” he quipped to himself. He glanced around. “Where are our - oh, there they are. That was remarkably considerate of them.” He stalked towards the far end of the room where all their packs and weapons had been neatly stacked. He pulled out his staff and checked it over carefully.

Fenris went over to a cot and sank down before he put his face in his hands and shuddered. One of his nightmares was coming true and he couldn’t even fall apart properly about it.

Vic came over and pulled Fenris into his arms. “We’ll be ok, just breathe love.”

Zevran was prowling around the walls, peering at the tree trunks and the way they grew together as a living wall then staring up at the ceiling. He glanced around then sprinted towards the opposite wall, taking two long strides up one of the tree trunks before launching himself up at the overhead branches. Clinging on with hands and feet he began to make his way across the ceiling, looking for any possible exit.

“Get down from there.” Invictus hissed at him. “You saw how easily they pinned us down, do you want to be nearly squeezed in two again?”

Zevran glanced at him upside down then lowered himself until he was hanging from his hands before dropping to the floor. He shrugged. “Not particularly,” he confessed. “I am partial to breathing. There is no way through in any case; the branches have grown together too tightly.” He stared around. “I do not see where the light comes from. It is not a natural light. It almost glows from the trees themselves. I thought it was daylight through the branches, but that is not possible.” He turned slowly in a circle; there was no apparent exit that even his keen eyes could discern. He shrugged then strode to the nearest sleeping platform and sat down.

“I’m going to be sick, this is worse than I feared.” Fenris said tiredly.

“What had you feared?” asked Nakusa quietly. Nathaniel glanced at him then raised an eyebrow at Invictus and inclined his head towards Anders, who was staring at the binding on the haft of his staff, his grip white-knuckled.

“My past would catch me, I owe a blood debt and it can’t be repaid except with my life.” Fenris said before he jumped up and began to pace around the hut. “Out...I need out.” he muttered as he made a circuit of the room.

Anders watched him, his own breath quickening, and then he turned away, leaning against the living wall as he closed his eyes and tried to ignore how low the ceiling seemed. Without realising he was doing it, he pressed the fingertips of one hand against the rough bark surface, and began to scratch at it, small fragments of bark flaking away beneath his nails as he held his staff tight. It felt reassuringly solid in his hand as he closed his eyes and reached for that warm comforting place inside.

“Anders?” Nathaniel’s voice unexpectedly near made the mage jump. “How are you doing? They can’t keep us in here forever. They must come for us soon. Maybe they’ll bring us food.”

Anders opened his eyes and stared at the archer. “Must they?” he said. “We can hope. Food, I wonder what food Fog Warriors eat? Roast Qunari and fried magister do you think?”

“As long as it’s not Warden-onna-stick I shan’t complain,” said Nathaniel, trying for humour.

“Very good, you almost managed a joke there, Howe! That was almost funny, you must have been practicing,” replied Anders. “Been taking lessons from Oghren?”

“Sigrun actually,” shrugged Nathaniel as he leaned on the wall and folded his arms.

“Sigrun? Really?” Anders’ eyes widened a little. “I didn’t know you went for dwarves.”

“Wasn’t aware you were paying attention,” replied the archer. “You were so busy hopping beds round the Keep yourself.”

“Don’t recall you complaining when it was yours,” said Anders, arching an eyebrow. He knew what Nathaniel was up to; the archer had done this before, distracting Anders when the walls of the Deep Roads seemed to be closing in on him. But he was thankful for it.

“Did I say I was complaining?” asked Nathaniel with a roguish smile. “You’re still greedy though I see - just the one not enough? An elf warrior _and_ a mage? You just need a rogue to round it off don’t you?”

“Why, are you offering?” asked Anders with a cheeky grin.

“Surprised you’re not all over Zevran; he made it plain he was willing often enough back at the Keep,” remarked Nathaniel.

Anders shook his head. “No, believe it or not I’ve actually settled down, Nathaniel,” he mused. “Zevran and Fenris have this thing going on, I don’t want to intrude on that. No, it’s just Fenris and Hawke for me, and I never even planned on that originally. It was all going to be very different.”

“Oh? Tell me,” encouraged Nathaniel, inching closer as he watched Fenris pacing. He didn’t see Anders open his mouth to speak and then something close off in his gaze.

“It doesn’t matter,” the apostate said with a far-too-casual shrug that Nathaniel wasn’t paying attention to. “Things... happened, I... lost Justice, and then Hawke took me in and... well, things evolved from there.”

“So what are you doing in Kirkwall these days?” asked Nathaniel, resting his shoulder against Anders’ as he glanced to the apostate.

“Oh, this and that; avoiding templars, rescuing pirate queens, the usual,” Anders quipped. Nathaniel smiled and reached down a hand to press lightly over Anders’ hand, stilling his fingers as they scratched at the bark of the wall. Anders glanced at him, and Nathaniel merely smiled.

“Thanks,” breathed Anders softly.

“Any time,” replied the archer as he turned his gaze on the pacing elf. His hand pressed comfortingly on Anders’ fingers.

Fenris paced in a circle, his mind focused on his past and the tribe that had taken them. He cursed himself for coming with them after all, and mostly he tried to keep the memories at bay as he continued to pace around like Malum when he wanted out.

Zevran watched him pace for a while, then glanced to Invictus to see if he would do something. He was aware of Anders and Nathaniel talking quietly at the far end of the room; Solona had stretched out on a sleeping platform and buried her face in her arms. Nakusa sat upon the floor near the dead firepit, his eyes following his brother as he paced.

Vic shook his head no at the Antivan. When Fenris got like that he knew to leave him be. He settled next to Zevran and watched Fenris, who seemed oblivious to the scrutiny he was under.

Zevran frowned a little. “I cannot simply sit here and watch him, friend Hawke,” he muttered in a low voice. “How long will he pace like this? I feel restless watching him.”

“Hours if he isn’t stopped. I would be careful, Fenris is prone to violence as you know, and his past weighs heavily on his mind. Especially here, being brought to their camp cannot ease his mind.” 

Zevran glanced at Anders. Though he seemed on the surface to be lounging against the wall, talking casually to the Warden archer, his face was still pale and his hands seemed restless though at least he hadn’t returned to clawing at the wall.

The Antivan glanced down at Nakusa, who had eyes only for his brother. “Fenris’ mood is infectious,” he said softly. 

“Yes, but I do not understand what he meant by blood debt. Does he expect them to kill him?” Nakusa said.

Zevran nodded. “Yes, I think perhaps he does,” he replied quietly. “And I am not sure we could stop them though I will willingly give my life in the attempt.”

“They won’t have him that easily.” Vic added.

Anders was growing restless again; he had moved to press his back against the wall, his eyes on Fenris as the elf paced. He’d set his staff aside, and though Nathaniel still had his hand pressed over the fingers of Anders’ right hand, his left hand had curled slightly, his nails digging into the bark, mindlessly scratching once more.

Fenris stopped next to Anders and took his hand. “You’ll get a splinter, stop it.” he said gently. “Come with me over to that corner, I wish to ask you something.”

Anders glanced down at his hand in mild surprise, as though only just noticing what he had been doing. He allowed Fenris to draw him away from Nathaniel. “What is it?” he asked.

“I worry that I might be...recognized somehow and called to account for what I did in the past.” Fenris glanced over to Invictus and Zevran. “If...I must repay my debt to them, take care of them for me, please.” the elven warrior started to worry his thumb nail as he glanced up at the blond mage then over to his other lovers.

“Repay...?” said Anders slowly, frowning, and then realisation dawned on his face. “No. No! They’re not going to take you, Fenris, I won’t let them! Not that.” He reached for Fenris, grasping his shoulders and staring down at him. “They’ll have a fight on their hands if they even think of trying. You think I’ll tamely stand by and watch whilst they take you away? They’ll have to go through me first! And do you honestly think Hawke and Zevran will meekly stand by and watch? Or Nakusa?” Anders’ voice steadily rose.

“Shush, stop yelling.” Fenris said as he put his hand over Anders mouth. “Listen carefully. My debt is in blood, and can only be repaid in such. You have no idea of their ways Anders, none. If they call for my head, my blood, my life I will pay that debt with honor. To have any of you interfere will make it worse and we will all die here. Better that I go like that than for us to have made it this far and all fall for my actions. You have to understand.” the elf pulled his hand away hesitantly, and looked over to see Invictus was still deep in conversation with Nakusa and Zevran.

“No!” shouted Anders. “They want blood? I’ll damned well give them blood! I’ll drown them all in blood to keep you safe, see if I won’t!”

Invictus came over to see what Anders was shouting about. “What in the Maker’s name are you ranting about?” 

“Me...he’s... _venhedis, fasta vass!_ ” Fenris said as he sank down on a cot and ran his fingers through his hair. “I shouldn’t have said anything to you. Why can’t you listen, Anders?”

“Do you honestly think I could just stand there and let them take you?” cried Anders, his eyes wild. “Do you?”

Zevran had risen to his feet and Nathaniel had pushed himself away from the wall with a frown. Even Solona had lifted her head with a worried look.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Fenris screamed in reply. “I asked for one thing and now you’re making this worse than it has to be!”

“What is he making worse?” Vic said in confusion.

“How can it possibly be any worse?” Anders screamed back at him. “Tell me that - _how?_ ” He was tearing at his own hair as he stared at Fenris.

“Calm down Anders, and tell me what’s going on. Screaming at each other won’t help,” Invictus said as he grabbed at the blond’s hands to keep him from hurting himself.

“He wants to die! He’s going to tamely hand himself over and let them butcher him and he wants me to just stand there and do nothing to prevent it, and I can’t!” cried Anders. “Let go of me!”

Zevran slipped around behind Anders as he struggled against Invictus, surprisingly strong despite the spareness of his frame.

“Anders, stop. This isn’t helping anything.” Vic said as he tried to keep the other mage still. Anders tried to wrench his hands free, chest heaving as he panted.

Zevran reached around him from behind, cupping Anders’ chin with one hand as he forced the blond apostate’s head back, and then he jabbed him hard with two fingers just beneath the jaw a little in front of Anders’ ear. Anders stiffened with an odd choking sound and then his eyes rolled back as he went limp, the Antivan catching him easily as the tall apostate’s legs folded beneath him.

“A hand?” requested the former Crow. “He is a little unwieldy, no?”

Invictus helped him carry Anders to a cot and stretched him out. “Maker above, we can’t keep doing this.”

Zevran stared down at the unconscious mage and shook his head. “There must be a better way of dealing with his volatile moods than putting him to sleep,” he pondered. “I do not remember him being so easily roused to hysteria before, but then I did not know Anders particularly well in his Warden days. I was preoccupied with missions for my Warden and avoiding the Crows. Has he been like this as long as you have known him, or only since he lost this Justice spirit of his?”

“He was never like this in the Grey Wardens,” announced Nathaniel. “He was always a happy-go-lucky kind of fellow - rather shallow in fact, if truth be told, though I always got the impression there was far more going on under the surface than met the eyes.”

“He was much the same in the Circle,” said Solona sitting up. “Though if you got him on his own he could be quite passionate about some things. But hysterical?” She pondered. “Though I remember asking him only once about his time in solitary, after he joined the Wardens. He became very... volatile then.” She glanced around at the walls, conspicuously lacking an exit. “Maybe the fog and then this room are just too much for him.”

“Hopefully they will let us leave soon.” Fenris muttered as he got up and went to look for a doorway.

“I wonder what’s taking them so long?” mused Solona.

“Either they are conferring on what I’ve said, or they recognized me somehow. The tale would be old memory by now.” Fenris said as he walked.

“Then perhaps they will make their appearance soon and we will know one way or another what is to happen,” said Zevran fatalistically as he leaned against a wall.

They settled in to wait as Fenris resumed pacing.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris' No Good, Very Bad Day.

Invictus heard the scrape of the door against dirt first, then Fenris as Mhaire and her group entered the hut they’d been put in. Fenris halted and stared at them as they filed in and zeroed in on him.

Mhaire came to a halt in front of the lyrium-lined warrior as the other Fog Warriors moved to guard the others. More Fog Warriors entered, and then they parted to reveal a female kossith. She limped heavily, one arm hanging uselessly by her side; one horn was broken but as she lifted her head, it was clear this was no elderly warrior but a young kossith, struck down in her prime. A heavy scar ran the length of her face from brow to chin through her milky right eye, but even disfigured and crippled as she was, Fenris recognised her. Vhaerun. He had last seen her bleeding to death at his feet before Danarius ordered him to turn away and follow.

“Yes, this is the one,” she nodded, and Fenris knew he was lost. They knew what he had done. This kossith that once he had called friend had recognised him, and in five words condemned him.

“The ghost butcher is known, as is his deed,” said Mhaire. “I had my suspicions when first you entered the forest; we followed your every step. But now there is no doubt. You slaughtered Vhaerun’s tribe. There can be only one way to repay this blood debt.”

Fog Warriors moved to each of the members of the party and once more Invictus and the others found blades at their throats. One Fog Warrior stood over the unconscious Anders, the point of his sword resting lightly against the oblivious apostate’s throat.

“The sentence is death,” announced Mhaire. “A cut for each Fog Warrior slain, to be dealt by Vhaerun upon the transgressor. What is left shall be stripped, bound, and left for the jungle cats to devour. As you did to the Fog Warriors, so shall be done to you.”

Fenris nodded slowly and dropped to his knees. “I understand.” he said hoarsely. The elf couldn’t bring himself to look at the others. Invictus, Anders, and Zevran knew what he’d done. He’d dreaded this from the moment they’d set foot in the damned forest.

“No, No...you can’t do that to him. Please, no. I beg you Mhaire, please.” Invictus said even as he felt the blade at his throat press closer.

Zevran gave a bestial scream and threw himself forward. He was instantly set upon by several Fog Warriors, and though he struggled fiercely they beat him to the floor.

Anders awoke with a start to find the point of a sword pressing into his throat and a Fog Warrior staring down at him even as Zevran gave a despairing cry.

“No...” he whispered. 

Nakusa closed his eyes, his hands clenched into fists.

“Blood for blood, life for life,” said Mhaire. “It is the Fog Warrior way. Fenris knows this.”

“May I have time to say goodbye?” the elven warrior asked as he stared at the ground.

“Take me, not him.” Invictus cried out, as he pushed towards his lover, careless of the blade digging into his neck.

“Did you give Vhaerun’s tribe the chance to say goodbye?” asked Mhaire. “Did you give mothers the chance to kiss their children goodbye? Husbands, their wives? Did they have the chance to make their farewells before you slaughtered every man, woman and child, every human, elf and kossith? People who took you in, fed you, sheltered you, taught you how to be a free man and no slave, who showed you only friendship, companionship, love?”

“No, no, no, no,” breathed Nakusa, his eyes closed as he trembled. “No.”

“They...did not.” Fenris whispered as he knelt there, his eyes closed as he awaited the first cut.

Nakusa screamed as in a flash every brand upon his body lit up in blinding white light. He leapt towards Vhaerun as she brought a curved, bright steel knife down in a long arc across Fenris’ back, opening up his skin in a long cut from right shoulder to left hip.

Even as Nakusa leapt, Anders reached deep inside himself for his magic and blasted it out in an almost uncontrollable wave upwards and outwards. The Fog Warrior standing over him was swatted away, the nearest warriors scattered as the concussive blast rippled outwards.

Fenris screamed in agony as the blade sliced him open, he felt blood running down his back even as he fell forward to the dirt floor. 

Fog Warriors stepped between Nakusa, Fenris and Vhaerun, swords and axes raised to meet him even as the kossith reached down and grasped Fenris by the hair. She dragged him back up to his knees then took the blade from between her teeth and sliced it across his back from shoulderblade to shoulderblade.

Anders had sat up, holding his hand up as he unleashed a blast of raw magic at another Fog Warrior, his face blank.

Invictus cast a barrier between them and the Fog Warriors, then blasted Vhaerun with ice as he tried to get to Fenris’ side. 

The elven warrior was unable to scream or to move from the burning agony in his flesh. He felt tears sliding down his face, but couldn’t stop them. He hadn’t felt such pain since he’d awoken from his branding.

Vhaerun reeled then shook off the ice, leaning down to cut Fenris’ left arm just above the top of his vambraces, the cut curving around his arm.

Fog Warriors were falling to Nakusa as he ripped through them, more leaping forward to block the way as the bezerk lyrium warrior attempted to slaughter his way towards his brother, screaming like a demon as he ripped hearts free.

Anders was on his feet, unleashing more blasts of raw power as lightning danced along his arms.

Nathaniel and Solona were grappling with their own captors, Solona hurling lightning as Nathaniel wrestled an elf with his bare hands, trying to wrest the sword from his hands.

“Stop them! Slay them all!” screamed Mhaire as she drew her knife and leapt towards Zevran who was pinned to the floor by four Fog Warriors.

Invictus blasted Vhaerun with Fist of the Maker before she could raise her blade against his lover again. He cast an Arcane shield over both of them as he tried to get Fenris to focus on him. “Love...still with me?”

A pained moan was all Fenris could manage as he laid there in a pool of his own blood. 

“Not good, not good at all.” Vic muttered as he reinforced the shield against the battle that surrounded them.

“Get away from him, bitch!” screamed Solona as she leapt to confront Mhaire.

Anders stared around himself then pressed both hands against his temples. Invictus felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as power built in the room; and then Anders let rip with the most powerful spirit blast the Champion had ever witnessed. He could _see_ the shockwave as it rippled out from the blond apostate, felling friend and foe alike; only the shield Invictus had erected saved the Champion and the bleeding elf as everyone else in the room dropped to the floor, stunned.

Vic stared at Anders in surprise for a moment before the way Fenris was moaning next to him pulled him back to the moment. “Anders, here, please.” 

The blond apostate stared around himself vacantly for a moment then seemed to come back to himself. He hurried over to Fenris’ side as Invictus lowered the shield, and his hands were suffused with a blue glow as he reached for the fallen elf.

“We don’t have much time,” he murmured, his gaze distant as he focused on healing Fenris, blocking the pain and drawing flesh back together. “Not sure how long they’ll be out.”

The elf’s eyes closed as he fell unconscious from his injuries. Invictus’ eyes widened in alarm. “No...no, no. Don’t be dead, don’t be dead.” he said frantically.

“He’s not dead,” replied Anders tersely as he worked to stem the bleeding. “Just unconscious. See if you can wake Nakusa. We need his special talents.”

Invictus obeyed quickly as he found the downed elf and sat him up. He placed two fingers to Nakusa’s forehead and cast Revive on him. “Fenris needs you, please don’t put your fist into my chest, wake up.”

The elf’s eyes snapped open and he jerked awake, one hand already reaching for Invictus’ chest before he recalled where he was and who was talking to him. “What happened?” he asked, bewildered, brushing blood-soaked hair out of his eyes.

Somewhere to their left, beneath a pile of unconscious Fog Warriors, someone groaned. “ _Ca-carissimi...._ ”

“Anders happened, and now Fenris needs you.” Vic said as he helped Nakusa to his feet and gently prodded him towards his sibling. He searched for Zevran’s voice until he saw a flash of dark hair and pointed ear. “Zevran?”

The Antivan elf lifted his head slowly. One eye was swollen shut and his face was bruised in several places as blood trickled from his nose. “Hawke? Is that you?”

“No the ghost of Feast Day past, who else would it be?” Vic said as he knelt down to help Zevran out from under the pile of knocked out men and women. “Maker, they did a number on you.”

“Fenris, where is he? What did they do to him?” asked Zevran, glancing around wildly. He cried out when he saw the other elf lying sprawled in the pool of his own blood as the blond apostate worked over him.

“Maker, that packed a wallop,” groaned Nathaniel behind Invictus as he sat up clutching his head. “What hit me? Feels like an ogre tried to use my head for a ball....”

“Anders happened, go rouse Solona and get our things, because if you’re all coming to already our hosts won’t be far behind.” Vic said as he cast another shield around the others then downed a lyrium potion. 

They all gathered around Anders, Nakusa and Fenris. Nakusa was nodding as Anders spoke quietly to him.

“I can do that, though it will take much of my remaining energy. A group this size, I will need a source of power.”

“You’ll use my magic,” answered Anders. “Take as much as is needed, just get us out of here.”

“What are you planning?” asked Nathaniel.

“Nakusa’s teleportation trick. He used it in the warehouse, remember? He’s going to take us all out of here, and I’m going to provide the power,” replied Anders as he pulled a vial of lyrium out of his pouch and downed it.

“Let me, you’ve used a lot of your power fighting and healing.” Invictus offered. 

“I have another source if need be,” answered Anders with a shrug. “Spirit mage, remember? I’m attuned to the Fade in a way that’s not quite the same as other mages. I can act as a conduit and channel it through myself. Not that I’ll say no to help mind you,” he added with the ghost of a grin.

“Won’t that hurt Nakusa though?” asked Nathaniel. “You already said you’d used your powers too much, didn’t you?”

“I have, but we have no choice,” answered the lyrium warrior. “They’re waking, and they must not lay hands on Fenris again. Swiftly - link hands.” He held out a hand each to Anders and Invictus.

Invictus took his hand and closed his eyes, sure he was not going to like the feel of being transported however Nakusa’s powers worked. Anders took Nakusa’s hand whilst he wrapped his other arm around Fenris’ shoulder, cradling the unconscious elf close. Solona rested a hand on Anders’ shoulder, Nathaniel taking her other hand and Zevran’s. Zevran’s free hand closed over Invictus’ fingers and the circle was complete as the Fog Warriors began to rouse around them.

“Stop them!” cried Mhaire but it was too late. Nakusa’s brands lit up and then there was a sharp tug and they were all falling through the Fade. There was a moment’s disorientation and then another sharp tug sideways, and then they fell onto soft, white sand as the late afternoon sun blazed down upon them.

Anders and Nakusa collapsed unconscious onto the sand, Anders’ arm still wrapped protectively around Fenris. Nathaniel rolled over away from the group and noisily threw up.

Invictus rolled over to his back and stared at the sky for a moment, he felt dizzy but they were somewhat safe, but until Fenris came around he was not going to be settled. “Who’s conscious, call out.” 

“I am still here,” Zevran managed weakly.

“As am I,” replied Solona. “Nathaniel can’t answer you right now but he’s conscious.” The other warden lifted a hand weakly as he continued to throw up.

“Nathaniel, once you’re done, we should see what we can make a fire with, find water and make sure those three can sleep without interruption. Maybe figure out where the fuck we are while we’re at it.” Invictus said as he made himself roll over and get on his feet.

“Maybe we can find a cave above the high-water mark down the beach a ways?” suggested Solona. “There’s plenty of driftwood about.”

“Sure, but we need to get them to wherever we wind up, Zevran is barely walking and I’m not doing so hot myself.” Vic said as he looked around them. 

Nathaniel sat up and unslung his backpack. He pulled out a couple of potions and downed them, grimacing at the taste, then got to his feet. “Hawke, do you think you could manage Fenris, or is helping Zevran about all you’re good for?” he asked as he straightened his shoulders and stared down at the two unconscious elves and the blond apostate sprawled on the sand.

Invictus glowered at him as he went over and picked up his lover’s sword and pack before he picked up the fallen elf gently. “Zevran, if you hold on to me, will you be able to make it?” 

“I think so, but I do not wish to burden you, friend Hawke,” said Zevran wearily.

“Solona, stay here with the packs and Nakusa,” said Nathaniel as he reached down and dragged Anders’ arm over his shoulder then hefted him up.

“No burden at all, come on.” Vic said as he followed behind Nathaniel to a cave not terribly far from where they had landed. The Champion set his lover down on his stomach, worried about the wounds that Anders had healed quickly, enough to stem the bleeding but they would scar by the time the apostate was up to healing him further. “Love, I’m sorry.” he whispered against Fenris’ back.

Zevran dropped down to sit next to Fenris. “Oh _carissimi_!” he breathed as he stared at the barely-healed scars, the skin thin, new and pink against the elf’s tawny skin and white brands. He shook his head sadly.

Nathaniel staggered in and lowered Anders slowly to the ground. “Maker, for someone so skinny he’s a dead weight to carry for too long,” he groaned. He turned and headed back to Solona and Nakusa.

“I’ll start a fire once you’re back.” Vic said absently.

Nathaniel a short while later, Nakusa slung over his shoulder. Solona followed after, carrying both Nathaniel’s pack and her own whilst dragging Anders’ pack. Nathaniel held both her staff and that of Anders in one hand. He knelt to lower Nakusa to the ground, Solona dropping the packs to help him.

Zevran remained sitting next to Fenris, one hand gently stroking the side of the unconscious elf’s face as he stared down at the new scars.

Vic moved away just long enough to start a fire then he stretched out next to Fenris, his hands trailing over the elf’s back slowly as he tried to stay awake long enough to see the elf open his eyes.

Solona unpacked Anders’ bedroll then shifted the unconscious apostate onto it, lifting his head gently onto his embroidered pillow then straightening his hair, stroking it lightly with her fingers. Anders didn’t stir at all, so deeply unconscious he wasn’t even snoring.

Nathaniel got his cookpot out and started a stew going, shredding dried venison jerky into the water before getting up to go forage for greens and vegetables to add to the stock.

Invictus fell asleep well before the soup was done, his hand on the small of Fenris’ back, next to Zevran’s as they laid there with the warrior between them. 

Invictus was awoken by a low moan from the elf. It was a quiet, pain-filled sound, half-stifled - the sound of one who was in pain but didn’t want to disturb anyone.

“Love?” he said quietly.

“V...Vic?” Fenris asked in confusion. Everything burned, he hurt all over and he was unsure why he still lived.

Zevran stirred, his thumb rubbing a small, reassuring circle against the small of Fenris’ back. “ _Carissimi_ ,” he said softly, still mostly asleep.

“Why….am I alive?” Fenris gasped before he winced from pain and curled away from both men.

“Nakusa and Anders happened, we weren’t going to let them…” Vic started.

“No...I owed a life debt, you don’t understand. Now I’m twice damned Vic.” Fenris said softly before he closed his eyes as pain overtook him.

A few feet away, Nakusa rolled over in his sleep then cried out in pain, curling in on himself in unconscious mimicry of his brother.

“I understand I was not going to let you simply die in front of me, neither was anyone with us. So cut this shit out right now Fenris. I’ll get you a healing potion, just stay put.” Vic said before he rolled over and got a potion from his pack.

Fenris found he couldn’t move without more pain racing through him, so he let Invictus feed him the potion. Once the vial had been taken away he stared at his lover with sorrow. “They will kill all of us once our deeds are spread throughout the tribes.”

Zevran opened his eyes and lifted his head. “Then we will go down fighting, _mi amor_. But they will not take you without a fight.” He frowned as Nakusa whimpered again, a pained sound as the unconscious elf curled in upon himself in his sleep. “What ails your sibling?” he wondered.

“I don’t know.” Fenris said as he forced himself to sit up. “Nakusa…” he said tiredly as he tried to move towards the other elf. 

The other elf was trembling as he made quiet little involuntary cries of pain, each exhalation a soft moan. On his other side, Anders stirred in his sleep, forehead furrowing in a frown though he did not awaken.

“What’s wrong?” asked Nathaniel, coming over to see what the noise was as Solona turned to glance over from her place by the fire.

Invictus went over to Nakusa and let his healing magic flow over Nakusa, his brow furrowed in confusion as he tried to figure out what ailed him. The effect on Nakusa was immediate; the elf stiffened then arched his spine with a cry as his eyes flew open. 

“Stop, stop it burns, it _burns_!” the elf screamed, flinching away from the mage.

“Vic...what’s wrong with him?” Fenris said as he reached out and fell over again with a grunt of pain.

“Not sure, he’s in pain but I can’t tell why.” Vic answered as he stopped the spell and sat back. As the magic dissipated the elf curled in upon himself and sobbed with the pain.

“It hurts, it hurts,” he moaned breathlessly.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Vic said as he watched Nakusa roll around. “Will a healing potion help?” he asked.

Nakusa shook his head as he gritted his teeth. “Pushed too hard,” he muttered. “Can’t keep it up for too long or this happens. It gets worse the more I use my abilities. Only have half the lyrium - the imbalance... feels like the rest of the lyrium is trying to rip free of my skin. Burns.”

“No magic on him.” Fenris gasped as he tried to roll over. “Hurts, hurts a lot when you use brands. I know how I burned for Danarius, can’t imagine how he feels.” 

“Maker, I’m sorry, I was just trying to help.” Vic said as he backed away from Nakusa. “Can I do anything at all?”

Anders’ eyes had flown open when the elf screamed, and as Nakusa writhed slowly in pain, the apostate sat up wearily, his eyes on the distressed elf. “No magic, but there are salves that might ease his pain through more mundane methods,” he said quietly. He glanced at Zevran. “I may need some of those little concoctions of yours,” he said.

“They are yours,” nodded Zevran as he sat up and undid the buckle of his belt. He got up and fetched Anders’ pack then brought it and his belt pouch over to Anders. “What do you need?”

Anders went through the small vials of poisons and reagents the former Crow carried everywhere, then pulled out his own supplies and set to work, mixing up a potion in a small wooden bowl.

Fenris slumped against the dirt and let his eyes close. “Hurts...still hurts,” he moaned.

“Love, the potion didn’t help?” Vic asked as he came over and pulled Fenris partially into his lap. 

“Something on her blade, hurts under the skin.” Fenris gasped as he arched away from the Champion’s touch. 

“Ok, once Nakusa is taken care of I’ll see what I can do for you love.” Vic said as he carded his fingers through the elf’s hair, his fingers trailing through the white roots down to the blackened locks.

“This will help both of them,” said Anders as he added a drizzle of a clear oil to the potion then began to mix it briskly, emulsifying the oil. The resulting cream gradually stiffened as he worked it, and then he turned to Nakusa. “Lie on your side. I shall be as gentle as I can,” he promised.

The elf did as he was told, eyeing Anders’ fingers with trepidation as the apostate reached towards his brands, fingers smeared with the white cream. But the cream was soothing and cool on his inflamed skin, a pleasant tingling numbness spreading under Anders’ fingers as he gently worked it along the lines. By the time he had worked the cream sparingly over half the lyrium lines the elf had relaxed against the bedroll, and by the time Anders had finished wearily the elf had slipped back into sleep.

Anders lifted his head and turned to Fenris. “Your turn, love,” he said gently.

“What is that?” Fenris asked without opening his eyes. “Leave the scars, whatever you do, leave them.” he mumbled against Vic’s side.

Anders frowned. “Elfroot, comfrey, woundwort, and extract of silverleaf,” said Anders. “It numbs and heals and should neutralise any poison in the wound. It won’t get rid of scarring - I was going to use a little of my magic for that. Why... why do you want to scar?”

“My own reasons, just use that so I can sleep.” Fenris said with a glance at the blond ex-warden. “If I awaken and you have disregarded my request, I will not forgive you for it.”

Anders’ gaze was troubled, but he slowly nodded. “I give my word I will not heal your scars,” he answered quietly. “On my life.”

“Good.” Fenris let his eyes close as he slowly stretched his arm out to let Anders work.

Invictus carded his fingers through his lover’s hair as Anders worked, his gaze on the fire and not the scars on the elf’s back. Anders carefully worked the cream into the fresh scars, trailing his fingers along the lines carefully as the cream stole all sensation from his fingertips. Finally he sat back and reached for a rag to wipe his hand. “Better?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Fenris mumbled.

Vic stared at his lover and sighed. “We have to figure out where we are and get out of this damn place.” 

Nathaniel came over and held out a mug of tea to Anders. “You look like you could do with this,” he remarked. Anders nodded thankfully and reached out to take it then exclaimed in dismay as his fingers failed to grip the mug and it dropped to the floor, spilling the tea.

“Give me another mug, I’ll help him.” Vic said.

Nathaniel rolled his eyes good-naturedly and fetched another mug.

“I can’t feel my fingers,” said Anders as he stared at his hand and tried to flex them. “That cream is perhaps a little too effective.”

“Silverleaf is a very effective nerve agent,” remarked Zevran. “It steals the feeling from the skin and the body. I use it when I wish for my target to be unaware they have been wounded but not actually kill them.”

“There was silverleaf in that sedative you dosed me with, wasn’t there?” Anders guessed as Nathaniel handed the fresh mug of tea to Invictus.

“Just so,” agreed the elf. “You never felt a thing.”

Invictus held the mug up to Anders lips to let him drink. “Let me know when you can hold this yourself, it’s a bit awkward.”

Fenris had fallen asleep, his face slack with sleep as he felt Invictus’ hand in his hair.

Anders drank gratefully, lifting his hands clumsily after a while to cradle the mug with both hands as he felt the feeling slowly return to his fingers which tingled. “Thanks,” he said as he lowered the mug. “Maker, I’m tired. Zevran, have you any idea where we are?”

The Antivan elf was sitting hunched over next to Fenris, one hand wrapped around his own waist and pressing lightly against his ribs as the other hand rested lightly on Fenris’ shoulder, well away from the scars.

“I am not sure; perhaps a day’s walk to the west of the settlement we were originally making for, at a guess, though I will need to confer with Nakusa when he awakens to see if he knows where exactly he has brought us,” he answered.

“I’ll keep watch, you rest.” Vic said softly.

“Zevran needs healing,” argued Anders as he noted the way Zevran pressed his ribs and stared at the bruising on the Antivan elf’s face. Zevran could still only half-open his left eye, and as the elf rose to fetch himself a bowl of the venison stew Anders frowned at the way he limped.

“I won’t argue that. I’m kind of stuck with Fenris sleeping on me.” Vic said quietly.

Zevran returned with his bowl of stew then sat himself carefully down in front of Anders. “Very well, but only because I know you will fuss until this is done,” he said. Anders grinned tiredly then lifted a hand to Zevran’s face to begin healing him.

“I’ll take first watch tonight,” said Nathaniel as he banked the fire beneath the stewpot. “I don’t think we’re at risk of big cats this close to the sea but there’s no telling what else we could run into out here - not counting Qunari patrols.”

“I’ll take second, wake me when you’re done.” Vic said as he leaned back and tried to get comfortable with a few stone of sleeping elf on his legs and a stone wall at his back.

Zevran caught Anders as the mage finished healing him then slumped forward, nearly ending up with his face in Zevran’s stew. “Easy, my friend, let us have no drowning!” He set his stew aside and helped Anders back over to his bedroll, where the mage was asleep in moments. The former Crow retrieved his bowl of stew then returned to sit next to Fenris to eat.

Solona had stretched herself out on her own bedroll and was falling asleep; soon Nathaniel sat alone by the glowing embers of the fire, working on an arrow as Invictus dozed.

The Champion’s eyes opened when he felt Fenris roll away from his lap and onto his side. He hissed as he felt sensation come back to his legs. He made his way over to the fireside and Nathaniel. “Sleep, I’m awake now that I’m not being used as a pillow.”

The archer glanced up at him, then nodded. “How are you feeling?” he asked quietly. “You were looking pretty rough when we landed on the beach.”

“Like shit, but can’t deal with that now.” Vic replied. “Anything left to eat?” he asked after his stomach rumbled. 

Nathaniel nodded. “Stew’s still warm,” he said as he handed the mage a bowl. “Help yourself. Maybe a bit of food will help you feel more human.” He glanced over at the sleeping elves and apostate. “How’s Fenris doing?”

Vic filled his bowl, and took a few bites before he answered. “He’s not alright, he’s doubled his debt to the Fog Warriors, and our rescue meant that he can never repay that with honor. He told Anders to leave the scars, and those are just the ones we can see.” 

“The moment Zevran went berserk I think the Fog Warriors were done for,” shrugged Nathaniel. “I’ve honestly never seen him do that before. But did they honestly think we could just stand there and watch that woman carve him up like a piece of meat right in front of us?” He shook his head. “And what would they have done with us afterwards? I doubt they were going to let us just walk out of there unharmed.”

“They would have, the debt would have been paid Nathaniel. He’s explained a bit of their ways, and we’d done them no harm so we would come to none once his life had been taken. This is going to take a lot of work, and being careful around Fenris to work through. Leaving the scars is just the beginning.” Vic said as he watched Zevran curl around Fenris in his sleep, a murmured _carissimi_ barely heard from one of the elves.

Nathaniel shook his head. “There was murder in their eyes, Hawke; I don’t think they’d have been satisfied with just Fenris’ blood on the floor. Did you not see the way that Mhaire seemed to have it in for Zevran right from the start? She wanted him dead, and I don’t think it would have troubled her much if that meant killing the rest of us too.”

“As you say, I’m not in the mood for an argument. I’m just glad Nakusa and Anders acted quickly, but I fear what will happen if Anders tries to press me on why I didn’t move first. It’s something that was decided and discussed without bringing him into it, and I don’t want to fight about it.” Vic finished off his stew then got his staff. “Get some rest, we should leave as soon as we’re able tomorrow.”

Nathaniel nodded slowly, setting the arrow aside. “Hawke... I’m worried about Anders. His volatility... he’s a liability to all of us right now I suspect.” He shook his head and sighed. “But you’re right; I should sleep.”

“I know he is, and until this thing with the Fog Warriors happened, I’d planned to speak with you and Zevran about it. Fenris is sure Solona has done something to him and won’t listen to me. Once we’ve made camp tomorrow, perhaps we can get away and talk.” Vic glanced at the fire and decided against stoking it. The jungle was warm and they didn’t need to wave a flag as to where they were camped.

Nathaniel frowned, remembering the strange, subdued way Anders had responded when the archer had found him with Solona the other evening - and then the odd way he seemed to behave the following morning. He couldn’t think of anything short of blood magic that she could have done, but he knew blood magic was almost as anathema to Solona as it was to the blond apostate.

“Fenris doesn’t trust Solona and with good reason, I’ll grant, but despite everything I know she does care for Anders even if he refuses to return to the wardens. She has only his best interests at heart and she’s worried for him too; I’ve seen the way she looks at him. Anders was like the brother she wished she’d had, in some ways; they both grew up in the Circle together, she saved him from the templars by conscripting him when they would have hanged him - she’s looked out for him, Hawke. She slipped up by leaving him behind, I’ll grant you, but she would not harm him, I’m sure of it.” 

The archer shook out his bedroll as he spoke then lay down. “I’d suggest you speak to her yourself but... well. I guess she’s burned a few too many bridges with you already. But Solona wants only what’s best for Anders, trust me on this. I’d stake my life on it.”

“That’s not a bet I’d take warden.” Vic said as he watched him stretch out. “I worshipped her, the image of her rather. Who I’ve met versus the Hero of Legend? I’ll take the legend any day over that woman. Sleep well, warden.” Vic replied as he laid his staff across his legs and looked towards the cave entrance. 

“My neck is safe, Hawke,” chuckled Nathaniel sleepily then fell silent as he dropped off to sleep.

Solona awoke a few hours later and made her way quietly out of the cave, not glancing at Invictus as she did so. She returned a short time later and sat down opposite Invictus, stirring up the fire a little and putting on more wood before setting a small kettle to boil.

“Go rest, I’ll watch till dawn,” she said quietly.

“I’m fine right here.” Vic said without opening his eyes. He felt something was off with her and Anders, but he wasn’t going to call her out on it, yet.

“Suit yourself,” she sniffed as she waited for the water to heat to make tea. She laid her staff beside her, idly running her fingers along the smooth silverite haft as she glanced out of the cave entrance towards the sea.

Vic opened his eyes and watched Solona, his gaze sad as he regarded the woman he’d idolized for so long, only to have his vision of her tarnished by cold, harsh reality.

She ignored him as she brewed her tea, leaving the kettle close to the fire and within reach of the other mage should he wish to brew his own drink but not deigning to offer a cup to him. She sipped the hot liquid cautiously as she pondered her own thoughts.

Vic rolled his eyes and stood slowly in a long stretch. He needed to find a bush, then hopefully wake the others so they could get a move on. 

“Quite a shock when a legend doesn’t live up to the stories, isn’t it?” she suddenly remarked, not looking at him.

“No, just incredibly disappointing and sad.” Vic shot back before he left the cave for a bit of privacy as he answered nature’s call.

When he returned, she continued as though the interruption had never happened. “They’ve been reading these books in Vigil’s Keep - written by some dwarf by the name of Tethras.” She finally looked at him and smiled coldly. “I thought you’d be taller.”

“I didn’t think you’d be such a cold bitch.” Invictus sniped at her before he rose to wake his lovers. Her low, bitter laugh followed him as he leaned over Fenris.

The elven fighter’s eyes opened at the sound of Solona’s laugh. “Hadriana…” he slurred.

“No, she’s dead remember love? Killed by your own hand.” Vic said with a pained look before he turned to glare at his infamous cousin. “Knock it off, you’re reminding him of his past with your cackling.”

She rose to her feet and cast a disdainful look at him as she made her way towards Anders. “Pot, kettle,” she sneered quietly. “We’re not so different, you and I, so you can get off your damned high horse. I’ve heard what you’ve done to mages in Kirkwall. The Wardens have eyes and ears there, you know. I’m surprised you haven’t thrown Anders to the mercy of the templars yet.”

Nathaniel rolled over as the sound of voices penetrated the fog of sleep. He sat up bleary-eyed and looked round, then swore. “Solona,” he groaned as he swiftly got to his feet and hastened over.

That made Invictus’ temper flare along with his magic. Ice raced up his left arm as he held his staff loosely in his right. “Seems you already did that to him well before I was on the scene...dear cousin.” the Champion snarled as he let ice form in his palm, his stance dangerous as he sized up the Hero.

“Woah, woah, hold on there!” cried Nathaniel as he stepped between the Champion and the Warden. “We’re not going to have a fight right in the middle of the cave. Just calm down, the pair of you. Someone’s going to get hurt and it’s probably not going to be one of you two.”

“I think it’s time we split ways Warden Howe. Take your Commander and be on your way, we have our own agenda, which doesn’t include you two.” Invictus growled as he kept the ice forming in his palm.

“You’re probably right,” conceded Nathaniel, keeping carefully between the two mages as Solona bent over Anders, one hand reaching out to gently shake his shoulder. “I’m sorry things turned out this way Hawke, I truly am,” continued the archer. “Solona?”

“Don’t touch him.” Vic hissed angrily. 

Solona ignored him as she called gently to the blond apostate. “Anders, it’s morning. It’s time to go.”

“Please, Hawke, drop the ice,” asked Nathaniel gently. “Just... let it go.”

“No. She started this and I will finish it if I have to.” Invictus said angrily.

“Hawke, this isn’t helping!” insisted Nathaniel as he turned slightly away to glance over at Solona who was now patting Anders’ cheek gently.

“Come on sleepyhead,” she chuckled as Anders mumbled something and brushed her hand away.

Fenris sat up and snarled at them. “Stop casting, it’s making me ache. It won’t help Nakusa either.” he turned and saw Solona leaned over Anders. “Get away from him, you’ve already done something to him, don’t try anything else.”

She sat back on her heels and stared at him. “And what precisely is it you think I’ve done?” she sniffed.

“Oh Andraste’s flaming crotch droppings, will you all just give over and stop it?” groused Anders as he sat up and glared grumpily around at them all. “Invictus, if I get a face full of ice I’m going to toast your sorry arse from here all the way back to Kirkwall, so Maker help me. Drop it.” He glanced at Fenris. “Solona’s done nothing to me - at least not since we ran into her in Tevinter. So you can quit posturing on my behalf. I’m quite capable of looking after myself; I don’t need you glaring at anyone who annoys you just because they happen to be looking at me. Anyone would think you’re jealous or something!”

He turned and glared at Solona. “And _you_!” He waggled a finger at her. “I’ve had quite enough of you shit-stirring, and don’t think I hadn’t noticed you doing it! Go away and leave me alone and see if you can just shut up for five minutes without pissing anyone else off, alright?”

He glared at Nathaniel. “Going to say anything, Howe?” he growled.

“Me? No, I think you’ve got it handled, Anders,” replied Nathaniel diffidently with a shrug.

Solona rose to her feet and stalked away like an angry cat.

“Fine.” Fenris snapped as he got to his feet and made for the entrance to the cave. “Figure out what in the Void we’re doing so we can be on our way.” the elf made his way slowly to a bush not far from the cave to take care of his needs before he came back in and sat on the bedroll. 

Invictus dispelled the ice in his hand and left the cave before he did something rash to all of them. 

Anders got up and made his way over to Nakusa. The elf was curled up on his side, head buried in his arms. Anders made to touch him then paused. “Nakusa,” he called gently.

The elf was still at first, then slowly uncoiled, glancing up at him warily.

“It’s morning. How are you feeling?” asked the apostate quietly.

“Like my skin is on fire,” said the elf hoarsely. “It was... not a pleasant way to awaken.”

“Tell me about it,” muttered Anders half to himself. “Can you get up?” He held out a hand.

“Do not touch me,” hissed Nakusa as he sat up gingerly, then grimaced apologetically. “I am sorry. I cannot bear to be touched.”

“I understand,” nodded Anders. He rose to his feet and made his way over to the sleeping Antivan. “Come on Zevran, I know you can’t still be sleeping after all that.” 

His only answer was a snore. Anders flung his hands up and rolled his eyes. “Right, fine, Fenris can wake you,” muttered the apostate as he turned and headed towards the cave entrance. He stalked past the elven warrior and headed off towards the bushes to answer his own call of nature.

“I’m not getting shanked for waking him from a sound sleep.” Fenris muttered as he laid back down and tried to settle himself.

Invictus managed to miss Anders when he returned to the cave and started to put his things into his pack. “We need to be on our way, this damned adventure has gone on long enough and I am sick of it.” he muttered angrily as he yanked the ties of his pack hard enough to make one of them snap. 

“Son of a bitch, fucking pack has been with me for years, it would snap on me now.” He dropped to his knees and tried to keep calm.

“Invictus come here.” Fenris called

“Not now love, kind of busy having a moment here.” Vic replied.

Fenris sighed and went over to his lover, tipped his head up so he could stare into his eyes. “Don’t let this get to you. When we get home, or at least at a proper inn we can fall apart. Now isn’t the time.”

“As you wish, let’s just get ready and get out of here. I’ll wake Zevran.” Vic said tiredly as he went over to nudge at Zevran’s shoulder, he remained ready to jump back if the Antivan woke up ready to kill. 

The Antivan started awake, jerking back, his face blank as his hand emerged from beneath his head with a knife that slashed out warningly as the elf turned his head blindly towards the threat, lips peeling back from bared teeth in a silent snarl before he blinked and his eyes focused on Invictus. The knife lowered a little.

“Hawke,” he said, and he sat up, slipping the knife into its sheath inside the top of his boot.

“Now I see why Fenris didn’t want to chance waking you. Come, we need to figure out a plan and get on our way. The morning has not started well.” Vic said quietly as he rose, grabbed his pack, and dropped down next to Fenris so he could work on tying it closed.

Zevran rose fluidly to his feet and stretched, arching his back until his spine cracked before straightening. He headed towards the cave entrance.

Fenris rose and gathered his things, then rummaged in his pack for a spare tunic since his armor was going to need repair. He slipped it on and managed to get everything back in the pack. He leaned against Invictus as he waited for Zevran to return.

Zevran made water then glanced around. He couldn’t see Anders anywhere nearby. He shrugged, then stripped out of his clothes before sprinting across the beach into the sea, diving into the clear blue waters.

Fenris nodded off as they waited, as did Invictus, both of them leaned on each other as they dozed.

Anders had headed a little way away from the beach in search of a stream or spring of fresh water. His waterskin was lighter than he liked. He made his way under the eaves of a wood, his ears straining for the sound of fresh running water. He knew he was taking a risk after what had happened the last time he’d gone off on his own, but they were out of the jungle and he figured he was still close enough to the cave that someone would hear if he screamed.

He was distracted by an interesting plant he didn’t recognise, and then a bright blue bird with red splashes on its wings. He found himself further away from the beach than he’d planned by the time he found a small, clear pool. He tasted it; the water was sweet and cool. He bent down and drank deep before refilling his waterskin.

He heard a footstep behind him and turned.

**

Zevran nudged Invictus awake as the blond apostate returned to the cave. The elf was damp, his hair wet. “Come, my sleeping beauties; we are only waiting for you now!” he chided the Champion and Fenris.

“Leave me alone.” Fenris muttered as he swatted at whoever was trying to rouse him.

“Love, we fell asleep again. Wake up.” Invictus said tiredly. 

“Where did you go?” Nathaniel asked Anders. “I thought maybe you’d run into Solona but she got back before you.”

“I didn’t see her,” said Anders listlessly as he crouched down to roll up his bedroll and stuff it haphazardly into his backpack, cramming his pillow on top. He stood up and swung the pack onto his back before taking up his staff.

Fenris looked to Zevran with a tired smile. “So where are we off to?” 

“I have spoken with Nakusa, and I think we are not so far off from our destination,” replied Zevran. “If we follow the coast east for perhaps a day we should be able to see it.”

Anders leaned on his staff and stared into space as the others talked.

“So... I guess this is where we say goodbye,” said Nathaniel slowly to the former warden.

Anders blinked. “I guess so,” he nodded. “Take care of yourself, Howe. I’m glad the darkspawn haven’t gotten you yet.”

“You take care of yourself too, Anders,” replied the archer, clapping him on the shoulder. “May our paths cross again some day.”

Anders nodded. “Hopefully under more pleasant circumstances for once. It would make a nice change,” he replied.

“Anders,” said Solona. He stilled, then glanced in her direction. “Until we meet again, Warden Anders,” she said quietly. He stared at her for a moment then slowly nodded his head. She turned to Zevran. 

“Will you not reconsider, _mi amatus_?” she asked softly.

“I will not,” the Antivan replied stiffly.

“Then there is nothing more to be said,” she replied. “Come, Warden Howe. The Grey Wardens await.”

Fenris glowered at her as she moved away from Zevran and got her things together. Invictus slung an arm around him as he watched Solona and Nathaniel get ready to depart.

Solona paused to glance at Invictus. “So this is goodbye,” she said. “I wish I could say it’s been a pleasure but we both know I’d be lying.”

Invictus felt flames come to his free hand and a snarl twist his face. “You need to leave, and may I never, ever see you again.” 

Solona arched an eyebrow then smiled softly, her eyes cold. “We shall see, Hawke, we shall see.” She turned and stalked away, sparing only one last glance at Anders before she left the cave. Nathaniel gave them all an apologetic look as he followed her, and then both wardens were gone.

Zevran made a faint strangled sound and turned away.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rescue!

“Vic… drop it, she’s gone.” Fenris said as he turned to gather his things.

Invictus dispelled the flames but the angry scowl didn’t leave his face for a long time.

Zevran gathered up his satchel and slung it over his shoulder. He kept his face turned away from the others as he slid his daggers back into their sheaths, then wiped his face with one hand before he took a deep breath and turned to face the others.

“So. We shall depart now, yes?” he asked, his smile a little too brittle, his gold eyes a little too empty.

Fenris came over and spoke quietly in his ear. “I’m sorry, I do not like seeing you in such pain _carissimi_. If you wish, we can speak the next time we set up camp.”

“There is nothing to be said, my love; what is done is done,” replied the Antivan with a fatalistic shrug. “But I thank you for your concern.”

“Alright, but if you need to talk I am here for you.” Fenris gave him a gentle kiss before he turned to the others. “Shall we?” 

“Maker yes, let’s get the Void out of here before anything else happens.” Invictus said as he waited for Nakusa to join them. The scarred elf was moving slower than normal, his movements cautious and stiff. 

“I am ready,” he said with a slight nod.

“Then lead on Zevran.” Invictus said a bit too cheerfully. The more space they put between them and Seheron, the better.

They followed the coastline, walking most of the day with a few stops. Nakusa’s movements seemed to slowly loosen up until by mid-afternoon he was walking more or less normally again, though he flinched away from any physical contact.

Anders trudged beside Invictus, his head lowered, quiet for the most part as Zevran lead them on, Fenris at his side, Nakusa just behind them. After a while Invictus gave up trying to draw the blond apostate out and contented himself with his own thoughts instead.

As evening drew in they crested a hill to stare across a shallow bay at the small settlement on the far side.

“There is where we will find Isabela,” Zevran said quietly.

“Is there a plan to get her out?” Fenris asked as he looked over the water and towards the small buildings.

“Of sorts,” said Zevran slowly. “I do not know exactly where she is being held and in what manner. I propose to slip in tonight under cover of darkness to ascertain this.”

“Be careful, I do not relish the idea of dealing with more Qunari than we have to.” Fenris said quietly. 

Invictus merely stared over the water, unsure of what would happen once they got the Rivaini pirate back.

Zevran grinned as he gestured to them to follow him back into the brush away from the brow of the hill. He found a secluded hollow with a sheltered overhang and dropped his satchel down. “We will make camp here. I shall rest a while; wake me at nightfall.” He lay down with his head against his bag and closed his eyes.

“Of course.” Fenris flapped his bedroll out and sat cross legged up on it. “Should we chance a fire?” he asked of his companions.

“No fire,” muttered Zevran, not opening his eyes.

Anders dropped down to sit with his back against the rocks at the rear of the overhang, his staff by his side.

Fenris went over to Anders and leaned against him, carefully in case the apostate wasn’t in the mood for company. “May I?” he asked.

Anders shrugged. “Room enough for two,” he observed.

“I am worried for you and...I owe you my thanks for my life.” Fenris said as he leaned further against the blond mage. Anders slipped his arm around the elf’s shoulders.

“Worried for me?” he asked quietly. “I’m fine, just tired.”

“You’ve had a terrible fright, that fight with the Fog Warriors and I’m sure parting from her was not easy.” Fenris said as he moved closer in Anders’ embrace.

“I wasn’t really thinking clearly during the fight,” said Anders. “I remember Hawke had my hands and wouldn’t let go, then someone grabbed me from behind and yanked my head back - and then I was waking up to a sword at my throat, Hawke pleading and Zevran screaming. I just... reacted. I don’t think conscious thought was really involved.” He lifted a hand to stroke the hair back from Fenris’ face. “No force on Thedas was going to take you from me. That’s all I really remember thinking.”

“I’ve doubled the stain on my soul.” Fenris said softly. 

“No, love,” replied Anders as he twisted round to face Fenris, cradling the elf’s face between his palms. “That fight was not your fault. The stain is on mine, on Nakusa’s, on Hawke’s. We were the ones who took life in that room, not you. And I would do it over a thousand times, drown the whole of Seheron in blood if it meant saving your life, love.”

“I have, I owe a life debt for my crimes Anders. Now the right of judgement was taken from them, and I still draw breath. You do not understand their ways, I am damned once more, and at least I will bear the scars as penance.” Fenris looked down, afraid to see censure in the amber eyes of his lover.

“You’re right, I don’t understand it,” said Anders bitterly. “They gave you no chance to speak in your own defence. It was Danarius who killed the Fog Warriors; you were only his tool. They never gave you the chance to explain. They condemned you without even a trial. I could not give you up, love. I still can’t. It’s... it’s not _just_!”

“What’s done is done. Let us just call it even and not speak of it again. Not while we have other business to attend to.” Fenris curled against the former warden and sighed. “I have come far too close to death too many times for my liking in our travels. Give me one night to be normal.”

The injustice of what had almost happened to his lover ate at Anders, but he held silent and merely nodded, slipping his arm around Fenris’ shoulders once more and holding him close.

“This will be over soon, and the first night we sleep in a real inn, nothing in Thedas will rouse me from sleeping in a real bed again.” Fenris muttered tiredly. Anders nodded dully then he buried his face against Fenris’ hair and closed his eyes.

“Lie with me for a while? Then we can let Vic sleep when Zevran heads off to his work.” Fenris asked quietly.

Invictus had taken up watch by the entrance to their overlook, his mind on what was to come and not their quiet conversation. He noted that Nakusa had stretched out and fallen asleep soon after they’d settled in. The scarred elf had spread out his bedroll and lain down upon his scarred side, breathing evening out almost as soon as he closed his eyes.

Anders glanced over at Invictus, then nodded. He pulled his pack out from behind his back and pulled out his bedroll, spreading it out before he sprawled on his side, head pillowed on his pack. He laid his staff down at his back.

Fenris curled against him, and soon fell asleep against the blond mage’s chest, his own breathing deep and slow as he made up for the natural rest he’d missed out on.

Anders rested an arm around the sleeping elf’s waist and waited for sleep to come. Though he felt strangely drained and exhausted, sleep proved elusive as he stared at nothing and listened to the quiet breathing of the sleeping elves.

Fenris mumbled in his sleep but did not awaken until he was nudged by Invictus to eat the rations he’d pulled from his pack.

Anders started awake as Fenris moved; at some point he’d drifted off with his arm still draped around Fenris’ waist, and as Fenris sat up he was jerked into wakefulness, disoriented and still half in dreams. “No, it’s not right, it’s injust -” he blurted then blinked as he remembered where he was.

“Wake up and eat, then wake Zevran up.” Fenris mumbled as he took the rations and canteen.

Anders sat up slowly, rubbing his temples as he tried to dispel the last fragments of the dream. He stared around himself, gaze distracted as he fumbled for his pack. He tugged out some dried meat and trail bread and began to eat mechanically.

Nakusa shifted in his sleep then woke up with a low gasp as an incautious movement of his hand brushed against the rock floor of the hollow, the sensation waking him instantly. He sat up and looked around. “Dark,” he murmured. “Dark soon.”

“Eat since you’re awake.” Invictus said before he stood up to stretch and resume his watch over the settlement.

Anders glanced over at Zevran as he got up to hand rations and his waterskin to Nakusa, then moved over towards the sleeping Antivan. He crouched by Zevran’s feet and shook his ankle gently.

The Antivan shot bolt upright and stared down at him, then smiled. “Friend Anders has learned from our companion’s mistakes, no?” 

“I’ve travelled with you before, Zevran; I know what you’re like when you wake up,” Anders replied as he sat back and watched the former Crow. Zevran had reached into his bag and was pulling out pots of face-paint. He smeared a dark greasepaint across his face and tied a dark cloth over his nose and mouth then tied back his hair before tugging on a dark hood. He pulled a thin black tunic on over his leather jerkin then rose to his feet.

He pulled some vials and small capsules out of his satchel, tucking them into various belt pouches, then checked his daggers in their sheaths before bending down to carefully remove his fine black Antivan boots. He set them neatly beside his satchel and bedroll, then turned to the others.

“I shall return as soon as I have established where she is being held and what condition she is in,” he said softly. “If I have not returned by dawn, you must assume I have been captured.” He glanced to Invictus. “If I fail, I release you from your oath, Hawke. If you can still save Isabela then please do, but....” He shrugged, then crouched down in front of Fenris.

“Be safe, _carissimi_ ,” he said quietly. “The gods be willing, I shall return.” He leaned forward as he tugged the scarf down, and gently kissed the other elf upon the lips.

“You as well, _cariad, mi carissimi_.” Fenris replied with his own kiss and a brief smile for the other elf. “Return to us.”

“I shall, just come back in one piece.” Hawke said then turned back to face the water, his mind too unsettled.

Zevran pulled the scarf back up over his nose then turned and leapt lightly up onto the rocks, gone in seconds without a sound.

“So now we wait,” said Anders in a low voice.

“Yes, and that’s the hardest part.” Fenris said as he sat by his sibling and watched Hawke brood by the entrance.

Anders set his back against the rear wall of the overhang and drew his legs up, wrapping his arms around them as he stared at Invictus’ back. After a while his head drooped until his cheek was resting on his knees.

Fenris was restless and it seemed Vic’s stillness made his annoyance worse. It was like his lover was waiting for his end, rather patiently. “”Vic, come here...I need you.”

Invictus joined Fenris and let the elf nudge at him until he was stretched out with his head in the elf’s lap for a change. “What did you need love?”

“This, just having you here right now.” Fenris replied as he rested his hands on Invictus’ chest as they laid there to await Zevran’s return. There was a low, rasping snore from behind them.

“He can sleep through mostly anything.” Fenris remarked.

“Better him sleeping than going berserk.” Vic replied. “I’m still convinced she did something to him. He’s been...off for lack of a better word since he took off after Solona.” 

Nakusa glanced over at Invictus, then flexed his lyrium-lined hand and stared down at his brands thoughtfully, pondering what he had felt that morning when Anders had followed the distraught Solona into the jungle. He said nothing, tilting his head a little as he listened to the mage and his sibling discuss the sleeping apostate in low voices.

Fenris noticed his movement and beckoned to the other elf. “Come, join us.” he asked quietly.

Nakusa glanced over then shifted so he was sitting beside Fenris, close but not actually touching. “I do not know Anders very well,” he said quietly. “I do not know what is in character for him and what is not.”

“That sudden burst of cheer then damn near hysteria over everything isn’t in character for him Nakusa.” Fenris said as he let one hand comb through Vic’s dark hair, longer since they began their journey. “You need a haircut Vic.”

“Look who’s talking, I’m surprised you can see past that mop in your eyes.” Invictus countered.

Nakusa tilted his head on one side, his long, white-streaked hair slipping forward over his shoulder as he eyed his brother’s hair. “Will the black dye come out?” he asked.

“I don’t know, I think it has to grow out. It’s been long enough that my roots are showing. I look like one of those things in Varric’s picture book. What was it again?” 

“A ...zebra, a wild horse found on the plains in the Anderfels, sometimes far, far ranging in Tevinter and Starkhaven. I sort of remember him asking Sebastian about them.” Vic said as he reached up and swatted at the fall of dark hair which was streaked with white.

Nakusa stared at the black and white hair thoughtfully. He reached up to touch a raven strand but stopped, snatching his fingers back.

“It’s alright, you may touch if you wish.” Fenris said lightly.

Nakusa touched the black hair hesitantly, afraid the touch would spark pain in his sensitive fingers. When nothing happened, he let his fingers card through the feathery locks gently. The hair felt slightly different to his own - due to the dye, perhaps. 

Fenris watched his sibling curiously but didn’t move as he was petted by Nakusa. He closed his eyes as the other elf explored his hair.

Nakusa flexed his fingers through Fenris’ hair, and his fingertips brushed Fenris’ scalp. he recoiled with a little hiss as pain flared across the tender skin of his fingers, snatching his hand back then ducking his head, flinching.

“What’s wrong?” Fenris asked as his eyes opened and he seemed perplexed by Nakusa’s sudden flinching away.

“Skin still sore. Touching another... too much,” muttered Nakusa.

“Do you need more of the salve Anders made?” Invictus asked as he sat up.

“Perhaps a little,” admitted Nakusa unwillingly. “I do not wish to fall asleep again.”

“Do you wish Invictus to take care of you, or shall I?” Fenris asked him as he watched Vic rummage around for the pot.

“I am not going to hurt Nakusa.” Vic huffed.

“I’m not a mage,” Fenris countered.

Nakusa looked from one to the other, troubled. He did not wish to upset either man by choosing the other; and yet Fenris was right - Invictus was a mage; though surely that would make no difference if he were merely applying an ointment and not actively casting.

But Fenris would understand better just how much the brands hurt, the terrible burning pain deep in his flesh that would not be eased. He looked to his brother, and held out his lyrium-branded arm. He glanced at Invictus as Fenris shifted closer to apply the ointment. “He shares my brands,” he said softly. “He shares my pain.” He lowered his eyes and steeled himself for the first touch of fingers upon his skin.

“As you wish, I’ll be at the entrance if either of you need me.” Vic said as he handed Fenris the salve and headed off to think.

Fenris took it, and with an apologetic look towards his sibling began to work some of the cream into Nakusa’s skin. “Tell me if I need to apply it somewhere specific.”

Nakusa hissed softly in pain then sighed as the cream began to work, numbing his skin. “The brands...particularly around my joints,” he said quietly. “They are... troublesome this night.” His head drooped as Fenris worked. “It is always uncomfortable; I can never entirely forget them. But it is worse when I overtax myself, ever since Master ripped half of it back out again.”

“He’s not your Master, he’s no one’s master anymore. I killed him brother.” Fenris said as he moved to the other elf’s elbows, wrists then motioned for him to lie down so he could get his knees.

“So the mistress told me when she returned,” said Nakusa. “I know she is... not my mistress anymore. But for a while she was. It is... hard to remember sometimes that I am no-one’s. Anders told me I am free but... I wake and for a moment I forget.”

“She was never your mistress, she…” he halted and looked at his sibling curiously. “Wait, you said when half your lyrium was ripped out? How did you survive that?” Fenris asked.

“He had not laid it properly, the enchantments didn’t take. He left me as an experiment for Hadriana and then the mis- Varania to work on. I do not know how I survived it, but V-Varania put me back together as best she could. Hadriana could do nothing; she had no healing skills and didn’t care for a failed thing such as I was. But Varania tried her best.” Nakusa closed his eyes as Fenris’ fingers worked the ointment into his joints, soothing the ever-present ache. “Perhaps I should have wished for death, but... I was not able even to think straight. The pain would drive me into berserk rages. But Anders’ touch... it hurt, yet I could think clearly.” 

“I wished for death, fervently yet it never came. I am sorry for all you have suffered at their hands.” Fenris said in a hushed voice as he worked the rest of the salve into Nakusa’s aching body. “Were I able to slay them again and again, I would do so in a heartbeat.”

“I wish that the master had succeeded with me and not needed to unmake me; then perhaps he would never have needed to inflict this upon another,” sighed Nakusa. “I was flawed. Perhaps, had I been perfect, he would not have chosen you, my brother. I am sorry. My weakness condemned us both.”

“No… and never tell me that again. It is a lie. His greed destroyed us, but we survived somehow. Never, ever blame yourself for this.” Fenris said as he finished rubbing the last of the cream into Nakusa’s ankles. He sat back and stared at the other elf, his gaze troubled as he had a moment of clarity of where that lyrium had been put once Danarius had taken it from Nakusa’s flesh.

He stumbled back, horrified at the revelation. He reached to catch himself on a nearby rock and steady himself, but his hands were numb so he landed flat on his back instead. “He...he used…” the warrior’s mouth closed and he rolled over, curlin in upon himself as his mind reeled at the import of what he had learned.

“Fenris! Brother!” exclaimed Nakusa as he sat up and reached for the other elf.

Anders’ head jerked up as he snorted, startled into bleary-eyed wakefulness. “Whu - Fenris? What’s going on?”

“No.. no, no… no.” Fenris muttered as he tried to get to his feet but couldn’t hold on to anything. He landed next to Invictus and startled the Champion.

“Love, what’s wrong with you?” Vic asked as he gathered his lover to him.

“Danarius butchered him, and used ...he used that same lyrium to create me.” Fenris gasped as he struggled in his lover’s arms.

“Oh Maker,” groaned Anders. He knelt down beside Fenris and reached for his hands. “Let me see if I... bugger, you used the silverleaf salve, didn’t you? Here, let me wash your hands, see if that helps.” He fetched one of the cooking pots, filling it with water then heating it with a wave of his hand then brought it over to gently scrub at Fenris’ fingers.

“No, let me go, let me go.” Fenris moaned as he tried to pull his hands free of the blond’s. 

“Love, he’s trying to help you. You have to calm down so we can help.” Vic said as he held the distraught elf in his grip.

"Fenris, I'm just washing the ointment off your fingers so you'll be able to feel again," Anders said in a gentle, soothing voice.

Fenris stared at his hands as Anders gently washed them, the apostate carefully soaping away the cream with his strong, slender fingers. Fenris focused on Anders' hands to try and centre himself and found himself fascinated by the two small moles on the back of his left hand. The warmth of the water was comforting as sensation returned to his fingers.

He reached for Anders' left hand and the blond mage let him take it, glancing up at Fenris as the warrior rubbed his thumb slowly over the moles.

"Love?" asked Anders softly. Fenris took a deep breath and released Anders' hand as he straightened. 

"My apologies," said the elf, his voice a low rumble. "I was... in shock, I think. I had not thought... but of course it makes sense. Danarius likely could not afford all the lyrium needed to make a second lyrium warrior."

He pulled away from Invictus; at a glance from Anders, the Champion let him go and watched as he made his way over to his sibling.

"I am deeply sorry that Danarius ever laid hands on either of us. Ours is a cursed family, I fear."

“An unfortunate one, perhaps,” shrugged Nakusa. “But we are free men now, are we not? We can make our own fortune, you and I.”

Fenris nodded slowly. “Perhaps you are right,” he agreed.

**

Zevran moved silently over the rocks towards the Qunari settlement. It was small, as such settlements go; little more than a staging post for raids upon the Imperial towns along the south coast of Seheron. Most had been long abandoned as the interminable war between the Qunari and the Tevinter Imperium had dragged on, and this settlement had once been one such small town. The Qunari had moved in to occupy it and repurpose it for their own ends.

He circled around to the north side of the settlement, eyeing up the remains of the town wall, and waited for the scudding clouds to briefly obscure the moon before he made his move. Sprinting swiftly to the wall, he took two long strides up it then leapt for the edge of the roof, his fingers finding sure purchase upon the baked clay shingles. He braced his bare feet against the whitewashed wall that still held a trace of heat from the day, and pushed off to lever himself up onto the roof. He stretched himself out along the edge of the roof and held still, listening.

When all was quiet and he was certain he had not been heard or seen, he began to move carefully across the low roof, his movements sure and silent as he went.

He worked his way around the outside of the settlement, keeping to rooftops wherever possible, the walls between gardens and around secluded courtyards his highways. He froze whenever one of the Qunari passed by. When he couldn’t avoid it and had to drop to the ground, he kept to the shadows, little more than a shadow himself.

He was making for the _viddathlok_ , the main temple. His sources and his own research had led him to believe that this was the most likely place he might locate Isabela. She had been moved here after her time in a _Ben-Hassrath_ training camp had failed to instill a proper understanding and reverence for the Qun in the stubborn Rivaini pirate. Such refusal to conform and become _viddethari_ was viewed as illness, to be corrected by the healers. What form such “correction” might take, he didn’t like to think.

The _viddathlok_ had once been some form of meeting hall or assembly place, perhaps for the town senate. It consisted of a large manse and long wings that encircled a large rectangular courtyard. Zevran had to chance a swift dash across a wide, white-paved street to the shadows beneath the wall of the compound before swinging himself up towards the low roof of what had originally been the stables. Qunari had no use for horses, but the Antivan had no doubt they had repurposed the stables for some other use; the Qun did not permit waste or misuse of any property whether that be a tool, a building - or its people.

As he climbed the stable wall, he noticed high windows set around the outside of the building, high up just beneath the eaves of the terracotta roof. He grasped the bar set into the nearest window - little more than a whole for ventilation really - and peered inside, his eyes rapidly adjusting to the dark.

The horse stalls had been converted into cells, each holding several sleeping people - or at least they appeared to be sleeping. All wore simple roughspun tunics and stout leather collars, their feet shackled. It appeared he had found the quarters of the _kabethari_ , “those who needed to be taught”. He smiled; what luck! Now he had but to ascertain if Isabela were here and if so, where.

He froze as there was movement in the cell below. One of the figures sat up and stared up at the small window.

“Who’s there?” whispered a low voice in Tevene.

“No-one,” whispered Zevran.

“You’re here for the Rivaini, aren’t you?” said the figure standing up; Zevran could see it was a young man.

“How would you know?” murmured Zevran, hanging back.

“Because she kept talking about you. You’re him, aren’t you - the Antivan Crow?”

“Does every Qunari upon Seheron now know to look for me?” groaned Zevran. The figure shook his head.

“Only us _kabethari_ ,” he replied. “She whispered about you in the exercise yard. You should know she’s scheduled for _qamek_ on the morrow.”

“ _Qamek_?” echoed Zevran.

“It’s the drug they give the really stubborn ones. We’re all facing it sooner or later. They’ve given up on her; she’s to be drugged then shipped out for the salt mines tomorrow evening. There are ten of them due to go.” 

“Who are you?” asked Zevran softly. The man chuckled bitterly.

“I am no-one,” he replied quietly. “We didn’t get out fast enough. We are the last survivors of this town, and it’ll be my turn for the salt mines soon. There’s no-one to come rescue me. The Rivaini is a lucky woman - or will be, if you get to her in time.”

“When will they come for her?” asked Zevran.

“Dawn,” replied the man. The Antivan nodded.

“Then look for me then,” he said, and dropped back down to the ground. He sprinted across the moonlit street, springing lightly up onto a low wall before leaping onto another roof and sprinting for the town wall across the rooftops.

Dawn. They didn’t have long.

**

Fenris was restless as he awaited for Zevran to return. The assassin was good at his job, so neither mage or elves discovered his return until he leaned in to speak in Fenris’ ear.

“Ah, _carissimi_ , it is well I love you, no? Were I still a Crow you might be a dead man.” Zevran licked the tip of Fenris’ ear then darted back out of harm’s way before the startled elf could respond instinctively with a phased fist.

“You are going to get killed like that, I swear to Maker.” Fenris breathed as he let his brands dim. “What did you find out?”

Zevran’s smile turned grim. “I have found her, but we must move now. She is to be given something called ‘qamek’ at dawn and transported to the salt mines.”

The Tevinter elf’s eyes widened in alarm. “If they dose her with qamek, we’ll never get her out alive nor will she want to go. Wake Anders, I’ll wake Invictus.” Fenris turned and nudged at his lover to get up.

Zevran nudged Anders; the blond mage roused instantly, looking around alertly. “We’re going now?” he asked. Zevran nodded, then glanced to Fenris with a small frown before shaking his head, dismissing the brief flare of doubt. The mage was not usually easy to awaken but they were all on edge this close to the Qunari settlement.

Nakusa was already up and awake. Unlike the others, he was unencumbered with pack or weapons. He glanced to his sibling for orders.

Invictus came awake with little grumbling about the hour. Once he saw the look his lover wore, any further commentary was kept to himself.

“Nakusa, do not use your brands unless it’s life and death, same goes for me. We follow Zevran’s lead and be ready to run on his word, alright?” Fenris handed his sibling his pack so he could keep his sword at the ready.

“How badly hurt was Isabela, could you tell?” asked Anders. “I can’t imagine they’ve been gentle with her.”

“I could not tell,” answered Zevran with a shrug. “She may well need your talents however.”

Anders nodded. “Hawke, how much lyrium do you have on you? I have two vials left, and I only have three healing potions on me.”

“Three regular ones and a potent one I’ve been holding on to, and frankly I hoped we wouldn’t need it.” Vic said.

“There’s also me.” Fenris said with an arched brow at them. “Like you’ve never thought of it?” he said acerbically.

“No, I haven’t. I know you aren’t a walking lyrium potion. I’m not that depraved.” Vic said.

“There is also me,” said Nakusa.

“No!” said Anders hastily. “I’ve seen the effect it has on Fenris and how drained it leaves him afterwards. You only have half the lyrium and every time you use your powers it leaves you in agony. No, I won’t use your lyrium. In desperation we may need you to teleport us out of there, and I don’t know exactly what toll it’s taking on your body each time you use your powers as it is.” He glanced at Fenris. “Love, I pray I won’t need to use your lyrium, but if they’ve dosed her with this qamek stuff - well, from the sounds of it I might need every bit of help to combat it that we can get.”

Anders turned to Invictus. “Hawke, we’ll need haste spells. I’ll concentrate on healing and defence if you deal with any offensive stuff needed and hasting us, OK?”

“Of course.” Hawke looked to Zevran expectantly. “Well, it’s your call on how we do this.”

“We go as swiftly as we may,” answered Zevran. “We travel light and we travel fast.” He was pulling on his Antivan boots as he spoke, stashing his satchel amongst the rocks. “We will return here if we can.” He nodded. “Come. We have two hours until dawn and we have much ground to cover.”

Fenris nodded and made sure his weapon was secure before he turned to Vic and gave him a kiss. “For luck.” he turned to Anders and arched an eyebrow. 

Anders bent down to kiss the elf then as they drew apart, gave him a quizzical look. “What’s wrong love?” he asked.

Fenris smiled and just shook his head. “Later, we don’t have time right now.” 

“Alright love,” nodded Anders.

Invictus cast haste upon them all, and then they followed Zevran. He led them, sure-footed, down between the rocks and at a dead run straight for the settlement, arcing around to the side closest to the _viddathlok_. They would still have some distance to travel once they got into the settlement itself, but speed was more important than the stealthy reconnoitre he had done before alone.

“Up over the wall, easy now,” he encouraged them as they crouched by the outer wall of the settlement. “Keep to the shadows and be silent. There are few awake within but the less attention we attract the better.”

“How did you get there?” asked Anders, his voice low.

“Across the rooftops, but I have no time to teach you all how to walk as cats or fly like birds so to the shadows we must go,” replied the elf. He formed a stirrup with his hands for Anders’ foot then boosted the human up. Anders’ long arms reached the top of the wall easily and he scrambled up then reached a hand down to help Invictus, the three elves scrambling nimbly over with no assistance.

Fenris followed behind the Antivan until they were back near the cell-block where Isabela was held. He crouched quietly with the others and waited for instruction.

Invictus did his best to blend in with the shadows of the pre-dawn darkness that barely lingered around the edges of the roof. 

They could hear the sounds of Qunari moving about and querulous voices raised. shortly followed by the sounds of rough blows and pained gasps. Zevran took a running leap at the side of the building and hauled himself up onto the edge of the low sloping roof.

“Oh Maker, we have to play squirrel,” groaned Anders as Nakusa followed without a backwards glance. 

“Quiet, they can hear like cats.” Fenris whispered as he followed behind the other elves. He nearly tripped on a loose tile, but caught himself before he or the tile hit the ground. 

Invictus followed with less grace but thankfully the same amount of success as the others. He glanced back at Anders and waved at him impatiently to come on.

Anders took a deep breath then sprinted for the wall, setting one foot against a protruding brick then launching himself upward to grab for the edge of the roof. Nakusa and Invictus were ready to grab his wrist as he hung there for a moment then helped him up onto the roof.

They shimmied up to the edge and peered down.

A group of ten people - mostly humans, but a couple of elves as well - had been herded out into a loose circle, surrounded by Qunari warriors. Four female Qunari, priestesses of the _Ben-Hassrath_ , stood to one side beside a table upon which there stood vials of a dark liquid. To one side stood a large cart.

As they glanced down, two of the Qunari warriors singled out one of the humans, a man with shoulder-length dark blond hair who bore a superficial resemblance to Anders at first glance. They dragged him out of the group of prisoners and forced him to his knees in front of the priestesses. One of the priestesses took up position behind the man and forced his head back then shoved the long spout of what looked like a copper funnel between the man’s teeth as he began to struggle wildly and scream, pinned between the two impassive warriors. 

The priestess forced the spout down into his throat and his screams gave way to a horrible gurgling sound, distressing to hear; several of the prisoners began to make impassioned pleas to be allowed to convert or for mercy, or else fell to their knees weeping in despair.

One of the other priestesses brought over one of the vials and unstoppered it, then tipped the contents into the funnel. The man’s struggles intensified and then abruptly ceased as he slumped, unresisting, between the two warriors after some minutes in which the gurgling, choking sound gradually lessened.

The priestess removed the funnel and the two warriors stepped back. The prisoner stared at the priestess dully, his face curiously blank - not unlike that of one of the Tranquil. The priestess gestured, and the prisoner got up docilely and made his way to the cart, climbing aboard and sitting down then staring blankly ahead.

“Maker, I think I might throw up,” Anders murmured.

“Hush,” said Zevran. “I can see Isabela.”

The two warriors reached for one of the two elves, and the noise from the prisoners increased. The elven woman fought, screaming, now she had seen what was to come and knew all too well what fate awaited her.

“This would be a great time to know that damned teleportation trick.” Fenris mumbled before he turned to Zevran. “What now?”

Zevran produced several small capsules from his belt pouch and handed them out to the other two elves. “The gate to the compound is over there,” he said, gesturing at the exit which stood open, two Qunari warriors standing guard impassively. “We will create some confusion with these smoke capsules and a few miasmic blasts. Hawke will add to the confusion as he sees fit.” 

He flashed the Champion a grin. “Anders, with me; we shall make straight for Isabela and then the exit. Fenris, Nakusa, do as you do best and... distract the guards as needed. The prisoners will likely make a break for it which will add to the confusion; our concern is to get Isabela and get out.”

“Done,” Fenris said with a vicious smile. “Nakusa, avoid using your brands too much, Zevran, do you have a spare weapon for him?” 

Vic nodded and reached back to palm his staff. “Let’s go.”

Zevran drew his daggers and handed both to Nakusa. “You know how to fight?” he asked. In answer, the other elf hefted them to test the balance before twirling them with a savage grin.

Anders glanced from Fenris to Nakusa. “I don’t know which one of you scares me more,” he said as he shook his head. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

Zevran rose to his feet and hurled the first smoke grenade, and then he was down into the courtyard and obscured by the smoke as the prisoners yelled in confusion.

Invictus cast fireballs overhead to scatter the Qunari while Fenris and Nakusa made their way down, both siblings working in frightening synchronicity to take down guards while Zevran worked.

Anders put his sleeve over his mouth and nose as acrid smoke from the grenades and the miasmic blasts Zevran was hurling with unerring accuracy blew over him, making him choke. He made straight for the spot where the Antivan had pointed out the Rivaini pirate and grabbed for the half-starved woman. 

He wouldn’t have known it was Isabela had Zevran not pointed her out. She wore a roughspun shift like the other prisoners, and her luxurious raven curls had been shorn off. The golden eyes that stared with startled surprise up into his own were the same however, and sparked with a fire and defiance that was all Isabela. 

“Someone order a rescue?” he grinned.

“About damned time,” replied Isabela as she turned and spat. “Let’s get out of this dump. You’re a sight for sore eyes, Anders.”

“Come on,” the apostate urged her and taking her arm, he began to run towards the gate.

The prisoners were making a break for it, all except the two that had been dosed with qamek. There was utter confusion and chaos as the champion and the two lyrium-lined elves carved their way through the guards and cut down the priestesses.

Invictus continued to rain down fire and some ice as he spotted them running for it out of the smoke and away from the settlement. He whistled loud and sharp over the noise, a signal that Fenris knew well from their days together. 

The elf had dodged a Qunari intent on cleaving him in two before he heard Invictus’ call. “Time to go brother.” he said as took out the Arvaad that wanted him dead. Nakusa turned and stared through him, his face spattered with blood as he grinned ferally, and then suddenly he blinked out. There was a sickening squelch behind Fenris and he was drenched in hot blood as his sibling phased through the body of the Sten that had been flanking Fenris.

Anders had briefly lost sight of Zevran in the smoke and paused to glance back briefly as he pushed Isabela on. “Go!” he shouted!

“I think Anders should fear him more.” Fenris muttered as he grabbed Nakusa’s hand and sprinted after the others. 

Invictus waited until he saw everyone get away before he cast Tempest on the encampment, dashing lightning all through the buildings.

“Zevran?” yelled Anders as he ran a few steps backwards, scanning the confusion for the Antivan elf.

“Go!” hissed the former Crow as he suddenly appeared out of the smoke, coughing as he clutched his left arm; the leather armour looked scorched, with an odd forking pattern through the charred surface. “The other prisoners are free. We must not tarry!” He dove back into the smoke and there was the sound of another miasmic flask being smashed somewhere nearby. Anders stumbled as he turned to go.

Fenris grabbed Anders as he caught up to the apostate and pirate. “Move it, do you want your lips sewn shut?” he hissed as he half dragged, half pulled the mage along.

Invictus stayed with them, occasionally throwing ice and fire to the side in an effort to throw off any guards that might have given chase.

Anders clutched at Fenris, staggering a few paces before he caught his footing. “No,” he panted as he ran with Fenris, following the Rivaini pirate. For someone who’d been in captivity so long and half-starved she certainly could run, but then he figured desperation was a pretty good motivator.

Nakusa took down the two guards at the gate but an alarm bell began to toll as they emerged onto the street, the white paving stones blushed pink by the early dawn light.

“Straight on to the main gate!” rasped Zevran as he brought up the rear. “They know we are here, no point in being subtle about it, yes?”

“None at all.” Vic shouted as he ran alongside the others. He didn’t dare look at Isabela as they moved on.

They could hear the sounds of pursuit as they approached the gates. “Hawke, haste us!” called Anders as he glanced back over his shoulder. “I really don’t want them catching up, and nor do you, trust me!”

Vic did as he was asked and hastened on with Fenris and Nakusa as they made the main gate before it was forced closed. “Anders...you might want to help out with that Haste!” the Champion yelled.

Fenris felt like he was going to collapse the second they stopped running for their lives. He doubted any of them were doing better, but he hoped they made it to a spot to rest sooner than later.

Anders reached within himself and then drew on his magic as he ran, augmenting Invictus’ spell as it settled over the whole group. His lungs were already aflame and there was a burning stitch in his side; he was steadily falling behind, despite his long legs. “Can’t... keep up,” he panted as he tried to drive himself on.

“The fuck you are falling behind.” Fenris panted as he dragged Anders and lit his brands for a boost of energy to keep them going.

Invictus caste another haste and rejuvenate as he ran, fueled by the desire to be far away from anyone who was going to hobble him or sew his mouth closed.

The moment they were through the gate, Zevran darted to the side and made straight for a small ravine a short distance away, flinging himself towards it and dropping down out of sight. Isabela threw herself down with him and the others followed.

“We cannot stay here long, my friends,” gasped the Antivan as he stared around at them, still clutching his scorched arm. “Isabela, it does my heart good to see you well even after all these months of captivity.”

“No thanks to _him_!” she spat as she glared at Invictus. She lunged towards him but Zevran caught her with his good arm and held her back. “Let me go! I should kill him for what he did to me!” she growled.

“Vengeance must wait until we are safe away from Qunari eyes, eh?” Zevran replied. 

“We should move on,” growled Fenris. 

“Shame you haven’t learned Nakusa’s teleportation trick,” sighed Invictus as he dared a glance up over the edge of the ravine. Qunari warriors were emerging from the gate like a swarm of angry hornets - very big, very angry hornets, with big axes and swords, he added to himself. He didn’t much fancy getting stung.

“He already knows it,” replied Nakusa.

Fenris stared at him.

“When I had Anders upon my horse. You teleported to the horse next to mine and pushed off the rider before you grabbed the reins of my horse. Do you not remember?” continued the other elf.

“So _that_ was how you did it!” exclaimed Anders, his eyes widening. “And I bet you never even realised you were doing it!”

The look of bewilderment on Fenris’ face showed that Anders was correct. He had reacted on pure instinct in the heat of the moment.

“It is like stepping into the Fade, except you step _through_ it,” said Nakusa. “You do it often in the heat of battle, skipping little jumps. This is just the same, it is merely a bigger jump, and it is easier if you have been to a given place before.”

“I suggest now would be a really good time to try it out love - they’re coming in this direction!” said Invictus as he dropped hastily back down into the ravine.

“I will help guide you,” said Nakusa.

Anders flung one arm around Zevran’s waist and the other about Invictus as Invictus rested one arm around the mage’s shoulders, his other hand around Fenris’ waist. On Anders’ other side, Nakusa had his hand on Zevran’s shoulder, his other hand reaching for his sibling. Fenris took his hand and took a deep breath.

There was a flash of blue-white light from Nakusa’s body, echoed by an answering flash of Fenris’ brands as they lit up in response, and then a sickening, tugging feeling as they were wrenched into the Fade.

Fenris could feel through their linked hands and the pulse of Nakusa’s lyrium against his own in their joined palms just how this leap was different, even as both Anders and Invictus opened themselves up to their magic to provide more power. He could feel how they did not simply leap into the Fade but slid _through_ it. He pictured the rocky overhang where they had passed the night in his mind, and with the thought it lurched into view around them as they dropped back into the physical world again.

Anders looked green but he managed not to lose his dinner this time, still clinging on grimly to Zevran and Invictus.

Nakusa reeled, his face drawn with pain as he briefly let go of Fenris’ hand, reeling.

“Nakusa!” exclaimed Fenris. The other elf waved him off as he reached for Zevran’s bag and thrust it into Isabela’s hand before he grabbed Fenris’ hand and dragged them back into the Fade. Fenris hastily lit his brands once more, drawing heavily on the lyrium to shoulder the burden of powering the teleport as Nakusa guided them.

Then they were back in the cave by the beach where Nakusa had taken them to flee the Fog Warriors. Nakusa collapsed soundlessly to the ground, blood seeping from eyes, ears and nose and trickling from his mouth.

Anders got up and managed to stagger as far as a group of bushes just outside the cave entrance before throwing up, his stomach twisting painfully as it emptied itself. Isabela slumped, retching, in Zevran’s grip. The Antivan didn’t seem to be faring much better, his face ashen beneath his dusky tan.

Invictus felt his stomach lurching uneasily but fought his nausea down as Fenris flung himself towards his sibling. “Nakusa!” he exclaimed frantically.

“Anders!” yelled Invictus. “Anders, we really need you right now!”

The blond apostate staggered back inside and made his way over to Nakusa’s side.

“What’s wrong, what’s happening to him? Why is he bleeding?” exclaimed Fenris frantically.

“I don’t know, give me a moment,” said Anders frowning as he laid his hands on the prone form of the elf and extended his healer’s senses into the body below him. “This isn’t good.” He shook his head as he began to focus on healing, tuning out everything else.

“I cannot lose him,” breathed Fenris as he cradled Nakusa’s limp hand in his own. “I have barely begun to know him. To know what it means to have a brother - to even understand what that word means.”

“Anders will save him, love,” said Invictus as he put his arm comfortingly around his lover’s shoulders.

But as Fenris stared down into the still face of his brother, he felt little comfort.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabela is not happy to see Hawke again, Anders is forced to see that the Hero has tumbled off her pedestal, and Fenris can't take it anymore.

Fenris felt like time crawled as Anders worked on Nakusa, his focus only on the downed elf as they huddled in the cave. 

Invictus held his lover, hopeful his comfort would only be needed while Nakusa healed, and not to lay him to rest.

Anders was oblivious to all but the bleeding body beneath his hands. He could feel how the lyrium had ripped and burned through the frail flesh, tearing through the healing he had done before, the lyrium leaking uncontrollably into bodily tissues, poisoning the blood and burning inwards. There was lyrium in Nakusa’s lungs, his heart, it sang venomously from his blood as the elf’s body began to surrender and give up. 

But the spirit healer wasn’t about to let Nakusa go as easily as that. He began to weave magic to heal Nakusa from within, healing blood vessels, strengthening arteries, shunting the toxic metal out of the scarred lungs and rebuilding the damaged tissues. He opened himself up to the Fade, calling out silently to the healing spirits that always lingered near him, waking or sleeping.

It wasn’t enough. He held out a hand blindly for lyrium, and someone pressed an opened vial into his palm. He didn’t pause to see who it was, simply knocking it back without thought then diving back into the demanding work, consumed by single minded purpose.

Fenris wanted to ask, but knew he’d get no answer. Instead when Anders reached back for another potion, he held out his arm, brands lit for the mage to draw on.

As Anders’ fingers brushed not the expected glass of a lyrium vial but warm skin and a hand that closed over his firmly, he gasped; the power flooded through him, heady and strong, like falling into a river of molten light that filled him. He channelled it into the unconscious elf, shaping with his will as he drove the lyrium back into its correct path, chasing up each stray particle and healing the wounded and scarred form as he went, breathing new life into the stilling lungs that now gasped for air, the heart that beat fiercely once more. Anders’ eyes glowed with the silvery-white light of the lyrium force he was vessel to, a living conduit between Fenris and his reviving sibling.

Fenris’ eyes closed as he felt Anders use him to heal his brother. A low moan escaped him as the mage’s power flowed through him, Anders and to his sibling. He knew he should pull free but couldn’t. 

“Love?” Vic said as he felt Fenris sag in his arms. “Fenris!” When there was no answer, he called out to his other lover. “Anders...he’s out cold.” 

Anders turned glowing, inhuman eyes upon Invictus, then glanced at his hand, fingers still laced tightly with Fenris’. He frowned, and then he drew his hand away and stared at it, the sheer raw power radiating visibly from his palm like white light through mist. He stared down at the unconscious Nakusa, then over at Zevran who lay reclining against a wall, one hand still around the unconscious Rivaini pirate’s waist, the other hanging scorched, withered and useless by his side. Anders lifted his hand towards the Antivan, palm outward, and the startled elf was bathed in scintillating white healing energies; as Invictus watched, the crippled arm grew whole and strong once more. Anders gestured again, and the glow enveloped Isabela.

Anders turned to Invictus and gestured, and a wave of soothing warmth flooded through the other mage, all the little aches and niggles he’d managed to ignore up until now suddenly swept away by the healing energy before Anders finally laid his hand upon Fenris’ arm. He let the power drain away into the unconscious elf, letting it flow until finally the silvery white light died from his eyes and the magic radiating from his palm darkened to a soft blue before dying away altogether.

Then Anders slumped, exhausted, head dropping to his chest. “Tired now,” he said in a small voice.

“Rest, I’ll keep watch.” Vic said as he laid Fenris out next to his brother, who breathed easily and seemed to just be sleeping.

Fenris mumbled something as he was moved around but didn’t awaken as he was stretched out by Nakusa. Instead he curled on his side and dropped off as soon as Invictus moved away. 

Anders nodded dully and slumped over on his side where he sat and curled in upon himself, resting his head upon his folded arms, eyes closing.

“I have never seen or felt anything like that before,” breathed Zevran. “That was truly something, eh?” He flexed his healed arm and stared at his hand.

Invictus kissed Fenris on the temple before he took a deep breath and turned to face Zevran and Isabela. “So…”

Zevran looked down at the unconscious Isabela, and gently ran a hand over the shorn head, a look of sadness upon his aquiline features. He let his hand drop to the collar about her neck, and he bent to unbuckle it before hurling the hateful object out the cave mouth. His fingers tenderly stroked the reddened, chafed skin of her neck.

“It is done. She is free,” he said quietly.

“She is, and from the way she lunged at me, my time will soon be at an end.” Vic said softly as he looked over his former companion. 

“You have forgotten my boon owed to Fenris,” said Zevran softly.

“I have not, but I’m going to guess the moment she’s awake and can get her hands around my throat it won’t matter.” Vic said sadly. “Or she may not care.”

“I shall not sleep, friend Hawke,” said Zevran quietly. “If she seeks to do you harm, she will have me to contend with first.”

“Trust me, I’m not going to sleep anytime soon. Not after that chaos, and not with men that would hobble me and Anders to keep others safe from what we are. I don’t think I’m going to sleep well for a long, long time Zevran.” Vic said shakily as he finally sat down and let himself feel the terror that had fueled their escape.

Zevran let his head fall back to rest against the stone at his back. “Nor I,” he confessed quietly. He was silent for a long while; long enough that Invictus thought the Antivan elf had fallen asleep until he spoke again. “I think we still have one further nightmare to unravel once the matter of Isabela’s vengeance has been settled.” He lifted his head and glanced to the Champion. “Anders.”

“I know...something is not right and I don’t know what it is.” Vic said tiredly. “I wish I’d never had to leave Lothering, I’d give it all back for the farm, mother, Bethany and Carver.” he muttered.

“I fear Solona has wrought some mischief upon him,” said Zevran. “How, I do not know; she may be many things, but the Warden is no blood mage. And yet, there it is - he changed after they spent such a little while alone. Why then, and not back in the inn upon the Tevinter border that first evening, I do not know. Desperation, perhaps. But she said something, some word, and it has lodged in his heart like some poisonous seed I fear.”

“I agree, perhaps once we are safely on our way back to Kirkwall we can discuss it further. Once they have rested, we should really be on our way from here.” Vic said.

Zevran nodded. “Anders will likely sleep for hours given a chance,” he observed.

“As will Fenris, but if we need to suddenly leave, then we wake them and run.” Vic replied.

“I think we have bought ourselves a breathing space, no?” replied the Antivan. “They will be busy trying to round up all the prisoners I was setting loose when you set off that magnificent lightning storm of yours, and we have left no trace of ourselves. I do not think their _saarebas_ will be able to track us through the Fade. There are no footprints to betray us upon the beach. They will take some time to backtrack along my trail to our camp last night, and longer still to follow back along our road yesterday. I think we shall be long gone by the time they finally discover this cave - and I led us along stony paths that leave little trace.”

He leaned back and smiled. “No, I think we have a couple of days’ grace, friend Hawke. But do not fear; we will be on our way as soon as we may.”

“Alright, I’ll keep watch near the entrance, if I do manage to nod off, don’t let me sleep long.” Vic said even as he tried to hold in a yawn.

“I shall be vigilant,” agreed Zevran.

Invictus woke up a short while later to the sounds of a struggle, Isabela cursing Zevran fluently in three languages he recognised and two others he certainly didn’t.

“Let me go, you misbegotten knife-eared son of a whore!” she growled.

“Ah, ah, now you are just getting boring,” replied Zevran in an idle tone as he restrained her. “A statement of fact can hardly be an insult, now can it?”

She let rip with a stream of Rivaini, Navarran and Antivan that had the elf raising an eyebrow approvingly. “Better, though I think you’ll find the first is unlikely, I have already done the second and the third is, I think, anatomically impossible, yes? I will not let you up and no, I will not give you a dagger.”

Vic straightened up and went over to them. “It’s alright Zevran, I deserve her fury.” the Champion said quietly as he looked to the Rivaini woman. Zevran had her pinned to the floor upon her stomach, his hands grasping her wrists firmly as she writhed beneath him and tried to throw him off. Her extended time in captivity meant she had neither the muscle nor the energy to get the upper hand however, and presently she gave up struggling.

“I am still not going to give her a dagger, Hawke,” replied Zevran, not letting her up.

“You bastard, Hawke. I came back for you, with that blasted relic, and you handed me over to those beasts. You _gave_ me to them! Have you any idea what I’ve been through?” she growled. “You’d better run once I’m free, because sooner or later I’ll get my hands on a knife and I’ll gut you before you have a chance to breathe!”

Invictus nodded and looked at Zevran sadly. “I’ve no idea and I fully expect for you to take your vengeance on me. It’s no less than what I deserve for what I did to you. I know you won’t believe me, but I am sorry, and if you allow me I will do all I can to atone.” 

“I don’t want your apology, I want you _dead_!” she spat.

“Now, now, Isabela,” chided Zevran gently. “Hawke came with me to rescue you. He has helped save my life more than once.”

“And I bet you had to blackmail the bastard to come,” hissed Isabela.

Invictus bowed his head in contrition and awaited her tirade or a blade to the neck. He fully expected her response to be one of rage, but her vitriol still hurt.

“Isabela,” said Zevran softly. “Do not make me tie you up. This is neither the time nor the place for your vengeance, and there are two others present who will be greatly distressed by it.”

“Fenris I’ll be sorry for, but I cannot believe you give a rat’s ass about the bastard beyond the coin in his purse, Zevran Arainai!” she hissed.

“Not I,” answered Zevran as he inclined his head towards the sleeping Anders. “A certain blond apostate will be quite distressed also.”

Isabela jerked her head around to stare at Anders, her eyes widening. “Anders? And Hawke? I don’t believe it!”

“Then wait until he awakens and see the truth for yourself,” Zevran answered. “But until then I must have a promise from you that you will not seek to harm or kill Hawke before I will let you up. Otherwise I must bind your wrists and restrain you.”

Isabela was still for a moment. “Very well,” she said quietly. “You have my promise - for now.”

Hawke remained incredibly still as Zevran let her up, unsure if she would keep her word. He flinched from the burning hatred in her eyes but remained in place.

She glared at him, her lip curling in a sneer, then turned and walked away towards the rear of the cave, folding her arms as she stood with her back to the two men, the stiffness of her back speaking volumes for her silent rage.

Invictus finally moved and went over to Fenris, his hand rested lightly on the elf’s shoulder. He was off in his own thoughts until he heard his name called quietly.

“What is it love? You should rest if you can, might be our only chance to do so for a while.” he replied to his elven lover. Behind Fenris, Nakusa stirred slightly.

Zevran glanced at Anders before he got up. Grabbing the strap of his bag, he made his way towards Isabela. She shrugged his hand off her shoulder irritably, and they exchanged quiet whispers in Antivan , her voice bitter and full of vitriol, his quiet and conciliatory.

“I was worried I would have to intervene. What will we do now? I can see how hurt she is and will take the first chance she gets to get revenge. Zevran’s boon may not even matter to her.” Fenris replied as he sat up and wrapped an arm around the Champion.

“Let Zevran lead things until we get away from here. Pray that my life isn’t forfeit before anyone can stop her, but you and Anders will be provided for should she get her revenge.” Vic sighed and looked away to keep from seeing the expression on Fenris’ face. 

“I’ve made sure you and he will keep the estate, named you both in a will, with Varric acting as proxy for Anders, since mages can’t inherit properly. I know it might get tied up with challenges from Gamlen or even Carver, but should...I not make it, you both will be cared for.” he finished hoarsely.

Anders’ breathing changed note - a slight hitch as he shifted slightly, before going still once more. His eyes remained closed.

Fenris stared at Invictus for a moment before he pulled him in so they were nose-to-nose. “No, you will cease to speak of your demise and us being cared for. I will not allow it.” the elf snarled.

“Love, even you can’t stop a blade from ending my life if she’s faster than you can move to stop her. I earned this, you and Anders, and Zevran can be happy again.” Vic’s words were slow and his gaze haunted as he looked to the corner where Isabela stood, over Anders and back to the elf that held him close. 

“Stop it Invictus, stop it.” Fenris gasped as he fought angry tears.

Anders’ breath hitched again.

“Fenris, I’m just being realistic here. You didn’t see how her eyes burned with hatred for me. You’ve survived long before me, and you’ll go on after. I don’t want to die, but I won’t be surprised if I don’t get back to Kirkwall with you all.” Vic gave him a sad smile, his expression one of defeat.

“You want to die, you want to fucking die and leave us alone to cope. You hypocrite...you damned, bloody hypocrite.” Fenris shoved him away and snarled at him. “How dare you do this to us Invictus? You wouldn’t let the Fog Warriors kill me when I damn well deserved it, and now you just plan to lie down and die? Was this your plan all along?”

Anders sat up suddenly and glared at Invictus. He had tried not to listen, to hear, but he couldn’t lie there pretending to sleep any longer.

“You wouldn’t let _me_ go. What makes you think you have the right to throw your life away like this?” he said hoarsely. “How dare you?”

“How dare I?” he laughed bitterly, before he pointed to Isabela. “She’s going to kill me first chance she gets, I plan for it, accept it and I’m wrong? I don’t want to die, but neither of you saw how she looked at me, is probably looking at me now. I’d accepted that I likely wouldn’t come home before we ever left. You’re wrong, I have no desire to die, but you know what, you don’t always get what you want. So I planned ahead, sue me.” Invictus threw up his hands and stalked off to the entrance of the cave before he lost his temper more than he already had.

“He’s just given up. Just like that,” said Anders, his voice shaking as he watched Invictus walk away. “I don’t - how can he possibly think we could be happy without him? I don’t want his bloody money or his house or his - his Maker-damned _protection_ ,” he practically spat the word. “Doesn’t he understand none of that means anything without him?”

Isabela had turned and was staring at Anders with a curious look on her face. She stalked over to him, her bare feet silent on the rough sand-strewn floor of the cave, and knelt down to cup his chin in her hand, forcing him to meet her eyes.

“It’s true, sweet thing?” she asked quietly. “You... and Hawke?”

He nodded silently. She glanced over at Fenris. “Both of you?”

“Yes.” Fenris replied before he went to Invictus and began to argue with the mage in clipped, angry Tevene. He knew Anders and Zevran would understand if they overheard but he didn’t care. 

Anders reached up and grasped Isabela’s wrist as he stared into her eyes. “Isabela... please. Don’t kill him. I know you’ve been through hell and back and I know you have a lot of... of righteous anger, and you want justice. I shouldn’t... I... just please. Spare his life. I beg you.”

Isabela frowned. “Sweet thing, what on earth has happened to you? You’re not yourself at all.”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Just... please promise me you won’t kill Hawke. Please.”

“I don’t make promises I can’t keep, sweetie, you know that,” said Isabela as she tried to pull away.

“And when was the last time you heard me beg?” asked Anders in a low voice.

She stared at him, then abruptly wrenched her wrist free as she rose. “No promises,” she said as she turned away. “Not any more.”

Fenris’ voice rose as he began to slip between Trade and Tevene as he argued. “Invictus, why would you do this to us? You...you. Do we mean nothing to you?” he finally rasped in Trade.

“You mean the world to me, my heart. I do not say these things lightly or without wondering how you all would go on. But I’ve earned this, and if she takes her due, I will not fight it. I need you to be strong for me, for Anders, please Fenris.” Vic said quietly, his eyes bright and his hands trembled as he pulled the elf to him. “Forgive me.”

“Not if you just roll over and I die without so much as a whimper. The man I fell in love with would not give up like this, and I will not allow it even if you have given up.” Fenris snapped before he pulled away from his lover.

Nakusa had risen stiffly from his bedroll and began to walk, limping, towards his sibling but then paused in indecision, uncertain whether to approach or leave them to a discussion in which he suspected he had no place.

Fenris noticed that Nakusa had risen and went to aid him instead, but not without a parting shot. “If you do this, give up and we keep you alive. You will do so without me at your side. I will not abide your willingness to throw all we’ve gone through aside in a fit of pique Hawke.” with that, he joined his brother, unsure how the other elf fared.

Nakusa stared at his younger sibling who seemed in so many ways to be the elder of them both. “There is much hurt and pain in the air,” he said quietly. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No...just, let me help you brother. Are you hungry, tired? What can I do for you?” Fenris asked quietly.

Invictus stepped out to stare out at the forest to one side, and sand to the other with a heavy heart. No matter what he did, it seemed to be the wrong thing. If he fought for his life, he’d keep his lovers, but at what other cost.

Nakusa shook his head in answer to his sibling’s questions. “Just a little stiff and sore,” he answered. “And... afraid that the pain will return.” He dropped his gaze to his feet. “You must think me, too, a coward for such an admission.”

Anders got to his feet and headed towards the cave entrance, grabbing his staff as he went.

“Not at all, I know too well what that pain is like. Come; let us sit and figure out something to have before we need to leave.” Fenris said as he gently placed his arm around Nakusa’s waist to guide him back to the center of the cave. He refused to look at Isabela or Zevran, he couldn’t face either of them. Nakusa stiffened involuntarily as Fenris touched him, then relaxed a little as the contact did not bring the anticipated flare of pain.

“Hawke,” said Anders quietly as he came to join the other mage, his gaze upon the sea as he set the blade of his staff in the sand then leaned upon it wearily. “There has to be another way.”

“I don’t know what it could be.” Invictus replied as he continued to stare over the landscape. “You should eat, you expended a lot of energy healing Nakusa yesterday.”

Anders turned his attention fully upon Invictus. “Can there be no compromise?” he asked softly. “Does it have to end with someone dead on the sand or their blood on my hands as I try to bring them back?”

“Not sure, I’d say that’s up to her at this point. Seems like I’ll lose no matter what Anders, just go in and have something to eat. I’d like to be alone for a while please.” Vic sounded exhausted and worn thin, but he didn't have it in him to care.

Anders stared at him. He threw aside his staff and suddenly caught Invictus’ face between his hands, stepping in close as he claimed the other mage’s lips in a desperate kiss, moaning softly.

Invictus froze, unsure what to do about Anders sudden affection. He stared at the blond mage when he pulled back, confused by the almost desperate kiss.

“For luck,” Anders breathed. “Not entirely sure that even exists any more but... I had to. If... if Isabela... We might not have a chance to be alone together again. I can’t... I don’t want to just walk away without.... this.” He stared anxiously into Invictus’ eyes. “Don’t push me away love. Please.”

“I’m not pushing you away, I was just...caught off guard.” Vic said as he gazed at the blond apostate. 

Emboldened, Anders leaned in for another kiss, more sure this time and less hesitant.

That time Invictus returned his affection,pushing Anders back against the rock wall by the cave entrance and even pinning the other man’s hands over his head until he leaned back. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t start something that we can’t finish.”

“Too late for that,” Anders gasped, not attempting to pull his hands free. “This all started a long time ago. There’s only one way it can ever finish, and you know that.”

“I meant shagging,” Vic said in an attempt at levity.

“And who says you can’t finish that too?” asked Anders, his gaze darting briefly to the stand of trees upon the hill above the beach where he had gone to fetch water alone only a couple of days ago. Had it only been two days? He blinked, an image coming to his mind - blue eyes reflected in still waters. He frowned, shaking away the fragmentary image as nonsense. “It needn’t take long....”

“Is that what you need?” Vic asked as he released the other man’s hands and leaned his forehead against Anders with a sigh.

“I need you to _live_ ,” breathed Anders softly. “And right now I am so afraid I am losing you even as I’m standing right here with you. It’s like a part of you is dead already, but I’m not ready to mourn yet. I can’t. I don’t want to walk away and leave you alone, knowing that you’ve already resigned yourself to death. It’s like you’re a walking corpse. I want to kiss a living, breathing man. I want to love a living man. I want to feel your heart racing, your breath on my skin. I want to feel alive - and I want you to feel alive too, love.”

Vic blinked the tears away that sprung up at his lover’s words. He twined his fingers with the blond apostates and hugged him close. “You said you were going to be a bossy, toppy, arrogant sod when we got home. How about you start now?” Vic breathed against his neck. Anders tried to speak but all that escaped his lips was a faint strangled gasp. His eyes rolled back until only the whites were visible as he shivered; with his face buried against Anders’ neck, Invictus didn’t see the curious change that came over the apostate’s face, but he felt the pulse in Anders’ throat leap and then began to throb as the mage’s heart began to race.

“What’s wrong? Your heart started pounding.” Vic looked up then nearly stumbled back as he saw how Anders seemed ready to faint. “Love?”

“Sorry... suddenly feel dizzy,” said Anders distractedly. “Can’t explain it. Was fine a minute ago. It should pass soon.”

“Maybe we should go inside and sit down then?” Vic said as he pressed a hand to the other man’s forehead. It felt cold and clammy, and when Anders opened his eyes the pupils were wide and dark. Anders managed to nod jerkily.

“Stay with me?” he murmured as he let Invictus pull him up, a supportive hand around the slender apostate’s waist. Anders leaned in against the reassuring solidness of Invictus.

“Something is wrong, very wrong here.” Vic said more to himself than to the other mage. He guided Anders inside and sat next to him, a worried look thrown to Zevran before he shuddered and covered his face. 

Nakusa glanced up as they entered then tapped Fenris’ gauntlet lightly before jerking his head in the direction of Invictus and Anders. “Something is wrong,” he murmured.

“I know, something has been wrong since Solona graced us with her presence.” Fenris replied.

Zevran had made his way across the cave to crouch down next to Anders as Invictus helped the wan mage to sit down with his back against the cavern wall.

“I’ll be alright in a minute, I just need to catch my breath,” Anders was protesting. “I just need food and rest, I’ll be fine in a little while, honestly!”

“We’re just worried love.” Vic replied gently.

Zevran pulled a small hipflask from his belt and handed it to Invictus. “Antivan brandy,” he said quietly. “It may help revive him, no?”

“If not him, I could use something strong that’s for sure.” Vic said as he opened it and passed it to Anders. “Don’t argue, just take it.”

Anders reached for the flask with trembling fingers; Zevran intercepted his hand deftly and set the neck of the flask to the blond apostate’s lips. “Just a little sip, yes? It is very strong,” he cautioned Anders.

Vic took the flask after Anders and managed a bit more than his mage lover. “Is it safe to have a fire or should we go for cold rations again?” he asked Zevran.

“I think we can risk a fire,” replied the elf. “I shall go search for driftwood; it will make less smoke.” He rose to his feet, leaving the flask with Invictus. He left the cave with Isabela in tow, clearly not trusting her promise to hold her.

Vic curled around Anders and laid down so he held the apostate to his chest. “Sleep if you can, until Zev gets back.” 

Fenris sighed and nudged at Nakusa. “I will be back in a moment, perhaps we can see what is left in our packs. Unless you wish to hunt with me?” the younger elf offered.

Nakusa glanced at Anders and Invictus; the blond mage was resting his head against Invictus’ chest and looked utterly exhausted once more. The Rivaini pirate was with Zevran; if he left with Fenris, the two mages would be alone.

“I should stay,” he answered. 

“As you wish.” Fenris took his sword and headed out to forage and if he was lucky, find a couple of island birds for dinner.

Anders’ eyes drifted close soon after he laid his head down, dropping swiftly into a restless doze. Invictus found it hard to drop off himself as the apostate muttered sporadically under his breath in his sleep.

Fenris took advantage of the quiet to hunt down some birds and gather wood for a small cooking fire. He returned in a few hours to drop down in a corner so he could pluck the birds, the feathers saved for his lover.

Nakusa came over to join him, studying how Fenris plucked the birds. “Teach me?” he asked quietly.

“Of course.” Fenris handed him one of the remaining birds and explained how to pull the feathers so they didn’t snap or bend in a way they couldn’t be used. “Did I miss anything while I was gone?” he asked his sibling softly.

Nakusa’s eyes were on his bird as he concentrated on plucking it without tearing the fragile skin or damaging the brilliantly-hued feathers, but he shook his head. “Anders is sleeping I think, though he keeps muttering in his sleep. Something about running out of time or ideas; I couldn’t really hear him very clearly. Zevran and the woman aren’t back yet.”

“Did they say anything before they left?” Fenris asked as he gathered the birds up so he could gut them before rinsing them off.

“Zevran said he was going to explain things to Isabela,” replied Nakusa. “She seemed to be very surprised that you... share... Anders with Hawke. I do not understand why; why wouldn’t you care for him? He is the only magister I have ever met who touched me with his magic to soothe and help me. He tried to fix what the mas- I mean, Danarius did. He is kind, and gentle. Why wouldn’t you like him?”

“Neither Hawke or Anders are magisters Nakusa. They do not crave the power of the Imperium. I did not always like Anders, and him joining us was a very recent change in our lives. Well after Isabela was taken by the Arishok.” Fenris tilted his head towards the exit where they could work on the birds without causing a mess in the cave.

Nakusa rose gracefully to his feet and followed, casting a sidelong glance at the sleeping blond apostate as they passed him and Invictus; Anders twitched and muttered something inaudible then said, “Darkspawn. Close,” before sighing. 

"Warden dreams." Fenris muttered as he walked them to a spot where they could bury the entrails and not draw animals.

Nakusa frowned, not comprehending. “Do all wardens have such dreams then?” he asked.

"Some do, he always seems to be plagued with one dream or another," Fenris said as he handed Nakusa a bird and showed him how to gut it.

“He spoke of darkspawn close by... dreaming of them? There are no darkspawn near here, are there?” asked Nakusa.

"No, I think he dreams of the past. It's unusual for him to talk so much in his sleep." Fenris moved on to the next bird, his movements faster from practice.

“I...” Nakusa’s fingers stilled on his bird. “I think Solona worked blood magic on him,” he admitted softly.

Fenris stopped and snapped his head up. "Why do you say that?"

Nakusa took a deep breath then lifted his head. “When Anders went off after Solona, I felt something. It was very light and subtle, but... my brands burned.” He stared into Fenris’ green eyes, his own gaze intense. “You know how it feels. You have felt it yourself. And I know Anders could not have been the source.”

"I knew it." Fenris snapped. "Come, we need to confirm your suspicions."

Nakusa rose to his feet silently and followed his sibling back towards the cave, curious as to what the other elf proposed to do.

Fenris dropped the birds on top of the wood he'd gathered then shook Invictus to get his attention. "Vic, love something is wrong."

"What do you mean?" Invictus asked as he turned away from Anders. The blond mage stirred groggily, reaching for Invictus.

“Hawke? What’s going on?” he asked drowsily.

"Not sure, ask Fenris" Vic replied.

The elf scowled but gave both mages a worried look. "Nakusa felt something when you went off with Solona. He didn't say anything at first, but he felt magic being cast, and he was sure it didn't come from you."

Anders sat up and frowned. “Nothing happened,” he said, shaking his head. “Solona was upset, we talked, that was all.” He shrugged. “I don;t know what Nakusa felt but it didn’t come from either of us.”

"Anders, we both feel it when magic is cast. He's more sensitive to certain kinds of spells." Fenris waited to see if Anders made the connection to what they were sure happened and what he hadn't yet said aloud. But the blond mage merely shook his head. 

“Fenris, we talked. That was all, seriously. Look, you’ve seen her use healing magic - we both know no blood mage can heal! What is this about - honestly now? I know none of you like Solona but she didn’t raise a hand against me the entire time she and Nathaniel were with us. You can hardly fault her for trying to coax me back, really. Not that it did her any good.”

The warrior groaned. "Nakusa, you explain he won't listen to me." Fenris pleaded.

Invictus arched an eyebrow in confusion. "If that's what you think, why did neither of you speak up before now?"

Nakusa shrugged. “I do not know Anders as well as either of you. But you have both spoken of how his behaviour has been unusual and out of character, and how worried you are for him. Fenris mentioned that Anders seems to be having more nightmares lately than normal. So I told him what I felt.” He looked at Anders. “Blood magic. I know what it is I felt.”

Anders’ reply was a look of blank incomprehension.

Fenris wanted to scream at the blond mage. “Anders...he has no reason to make this up or lie to you. Stop and think about it, please.” the elf begged his lover.

Vic looked at Fenris then to Anders. “You have to admit, your moods have been pretty up and down lately, more than we’re used to anyway. Besides why would Nakusa come up with something like this out of the blue?” the Champion asked.

Anders shook his head slowly. “But... she _couldn’t_ , Hawke. You can’t be a healer and be a blood mage. And... and I would have noticed her trying something like that, I’m certain of it. She hasn’t, she... she _couldn’t...._....” The blond apostate’s voice belied his uncertainty as his gaze dropped and he pressed a hand over his heart, looking disquietened. He closed his eyes in concentration, and Fenris and Nakusa both felt the ripple of magic pulling at their brands as he sank his senses inside, trying to feel for any trace of something that shouldn’t be there, any evidence that their words were true. 

“I... I can’t feel anything,” he said, his voice quiet and trembling slightly. He opened his eyes and stared at the others, keenly aware of their scrutiny. “But... that doesn’t necessarily mean anything... does it?” His expression was suddenly bleak and afraid. “Maker, how would I even know?”

“Can’t you detect blood magic? You’ve been around Merrill…” Invictus trailed off as he stared at the other mage. “She would have known, when we get back, she could have told you but she’s gone. What do we do now?” Vic said tiredly.

Anders dropped his head into his hands and groaned. “Solona, what have you done?” he murmured, stunned at the import of what had happened. “I don’t get it. If she could use blood magic on me, why didn’t she just simply compel me to go with her? She was so insistent she wanted me back. What else would she have used it for?” He raised his head. “What could she have done to me? I don’t get it!”

“We don’t either, but we’ll figure it out alright?” Fenris said as he came over to Anders and hugged him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry love.”

Anders leaned into the touch, still in shock. “I don’t know if you should be afraid of me, if she’s turned me into some kind of walking timebomb or something,” he murmured. “What did she do to me? I can’t trust even my thoughts are my own anymore.”

“Let us help you, we will watch and not let you falter love.” Invictus said as he knelt next to his lovers. “Do you trust us to keep you safe until we get home?”

Anders nodded. “Yes. With my life,” he replied, his voice a little stronger, more certain.

“What is this?” inquired Zevran as he paused in the entrance of the cavern. “Something has happened?” Behind him, Isabela stared over at Anders, frowning, her arms full of driftwood.

“Then let us keep you safe until we can figure this out.” Fenris added quietly. “I’m sorry love, but I’m no mage so I can’t detect such things. Is there anyone else that would know blood magic when they check you over?” the elf asked.

Anders was still in thought for a little while. “Another healer, perhaps. Or....” He broke off, glancing down as he frowned. “Possibly a templar.” He shuddered.

“Carver...Maker help me if I have to ask for his help, but he could tell better than I could.” Invictus said in annoyance.

“I’ll drag him there by the ear if I have to Hawke.” Fenris replied.

“As long as you’re both with me,” said Anders, not looking up.

“Till the end of the line.” Fenris said as he drew back to greet Zevran. 

“We’ll talk later, I need to finish dressing the birds and get a fire going.” the elven fighter busied himself with spearing the fowl and building a shallow pit to start a fire in.

Invictus pulled Anders into his arms and whispered reassurances to his apostate lover as Fenris worked. Nakusa studied his brother’s hands for a few minutes then took up a bird and dressed it before spearing it as Fenris had done. Isabela assisted the two elves in building the fire then helped finish preparing the birds, her hands moving swiftly and skillfully.

Zevran moved over towards a low boulder and sat down to pour sand out from his boots with a small grimace. Anders rested his head against Invictus’ chest as he watched the others and let Invictus’ soothing words wash over him.

“We’ll figure this out Anders, I won’t...let anything else happen to you. I”m sorry I didn’t notice before.” Vic said softly before he pressed a kiss to the blond’s temple.

Fenris didn’t speak to Isabela, his mind was too wrapped up with worry about Anders and Invictus. He knew he didn’t have the patience to deal with her if she started in on getting revenge.

Zevran set down the bundle he was carrying, unwrapping it to pull out large round brown fruits that he had been carrying in his shirt. He shook the garment out and set it aside then pulled out the needle-fine dagger from the back of his vambrace to pierce the fruit several times before setting them around the edge of the fire they had built to roast.

Once the birds were skewered and going, Fenris went over to the pile of feathers he’d saved for Anders and took them to his lover. “Here, I saved them for you.” 

Anders sat up and held out his hands, and then stared down at the brightly-coloured feathers that Fenris gave him. His eyes widened. “They’re beautiful; thank you, love!” he exclaimed.

“You will be more brightly dressed than the most fashionable lady in Orlais with those adorning your coat, my friend!” laughed Zevran. “We shall certainly be able to see you coming! They are bright and cheering, no?”

“Very,” agreed Anders. He gave Fenris a fond smile.

“I noticed how you smiled at seeing them. I hope you like them.” Fenris cleared his throat and went back to the fire so he could watch the birds, and ignore the lump in his throat. He noticed the additions to their meal from Zevran. “I haven’t had those in years, where did you find breadfruits?” 

“They grow in the trees just above the beach,” Zevran gestured up and inland. “They are very plentiful around here. They go well with the birds, no?”

“Yeah they will, thank you.” Fenris fell silent as he watched the birds cook, his mind occupied with how they were going to get off Seheron, get home and keep everyone alive if not happy.

Isabela sat silently, crosslegged, her eyes on the birds as they cooked. She ignored everyone else, completely still save for two fingers that tapped almost imperceptibly against one knee.

Fenris glanced at the movement of her fingers but curbed the urge to tell her to be still. It’s not as if she even made noise with the movement, it just irked him. The elf closed his eyes after a while and dropped his head to his knees, hopeful no one would realize just how close to the edge he was.

Nakusa shifted a little closer to his sibling, almost but not quite touching. He could sense that Fenris seemed tense and discomforted by something but felt at a loss to know how to help or even if it were his place to. He had no words, and so he settled for companionable silence.

Fenris turned his head when he felt the other elf’s presence. The lyrium in his flesh pulsed slightly when the other elf was near to him. He leaned against his brother and whispered thanks for coming to him. Nakusa smiled a little self-consciously, then after a moment lifted an arm hesitantly to rest it around Fenris’ shoulders, as he had seen the others do often to comfort or support each other. This casual, easy affection felt strange and new to him but Fenris seemed to derive comfort from it; and so the scarred elf ignored the slight discomfort of touch to embrace his sibling carefully.

Fenris leaned against Nakusa slightly, unsure if being pressed against his sibling was going to hurt the other elf. “Are you still in pain? You don’t have to...touch me if it hurts.” he mumbled.

Invictus had busied himself with helping Anders sort out the feathers, his back to Isabela as he worked. Her bitter hate was too much for him to deal with, especially in the face of Solona’s betrayal of her warden.

“It is tolerable,” replied Nakusa. “This... is it helping?” His voice was hesitant.

“Yes, it is nice to be comforted like this. I finally learned that not all touch had to be painful from Invictus.” Fenris replied. “I’m scared that we won’t get back, that something is broken in Anders and she will kill Vic.” he finally admitted in Tevene to his brother.

“If we keep heading along the coast, we may find some abandoned village and be able to take a boat,” said Nakusa quietly. “I do not know what was done to Anders, but perhaps when we are away from this island we will be better able to help him. And as for the woman, she and Zevran appear to have talked whilst they were gathering wood and breadfruit; she does not seem about to attack Hawke now, and I think even if she did then we would have little trouble restraining her.”

“I know, I just…” Fenris sighed and covered his face with trembling hands, his voice muffled as he spoke. “I want to go home.”

Nakusa stared at him and wondered what he should do. For a moment he did nothing, merely stared at his troubled sibling; and then slowly, tentatively he turned slightly towards Fenris and lifted his other arm to awkwardly hug the other elf, the expression on his face uncertain as he frowned and hoped he was doing this right.

Fenris half-laughed, half-sobbed at Nakusa’s attempt at comforting him. It was clear the other elf had no idea what to do, but he tried and that made all the difference to him. “Thank you for comforting me brother.” the warrior gave his sibling a gentle squeeze in response before he wiped at his face in annoyance, mostly with himself. “I shouldn’t let the birds burn.”

Even as he spoke, Isabela leaned forward to turn the bird nearest to her so it wouldn’t catch, and then reached for another. She didn’t look at Fenris as she tended to the cooking food, only muttering quietly, “I’ve got this.”

There was a quiet chuckle from Anders behind them; as Fenris glanced back at him briefly, he saw that Zevran had leaned over, plucked four of the bright feathers from his hand and stuck them in Invictus’ hair.

“It suits you, Hawke; new plumage, yes?” teased the Antivan with a slow smile as Anders covered his mouth with his hand and chuckled.

“I can tend the food, I’m not helpless.” Fenris said as he glared at Isabela. She’d been a friend once, but her insistence on wanting Invictus’ blood had cooled any remaining bond to the Rivaini woman.

“I think it’s rather fetching, the colour complements my eyes.” Invictus teased back.

“It is _vashe_ to be _ath'lok-maraas_ ,” Isabela muttered, then caught herself and froze before suddenly she leapt to her feet and strode swiftly from the cave, a stricken look upon her face.

“What did she say?” asked Anders, perplexed.

Fenris blinked slowly. “She said it is... garbage, rubbish.... to be.... a useless unskilled laborer,” he said slowly.

Zevran rose from his boulder, all laughter gone as he followed Isabela.

“Their lessons may have sunk deeper than she realized. This will take time to undo, to unwind the bonds they have woven in her mind.” Fenris said softly.

“Oh Maker,” breathed Anders, a sympathetic look in his eyes. 

“I think I understand how she may feel,” said Nakusa quietly. “It is not easy to adjust to freedom, and she was still their prisoner a day ago.”

“As do I, but it’s been a long time since I felt that way.” Fenris added.

“This is not going to help her want anything but my head.” Vic murmured.

“Perhaps not,” said Nakusa thoughtfully. “She has not even looked in your direction since she and Zevran returned earlier. Maybe he was able to mollify her. Right now, she seems too distressed to be aware even of your existence. Maybe... Maybe I should go speak to her?”

“If you wish, I do not know if it will help at all.” Invictus muttered.

“It can’t hurt to let him try, love,” said Anders gently. “Maybe having a non-judgemental stranger who she has no past with will be able to help her in a way that we can’t.”

“We can hope so. I don’t relish fighting her for Vic’s life but I will if I have to.” Fenris added.

Anders rose to his feet and moved over to sit beside Fenris as Nakusa got up and headed towards the cave entrance. The blond apostate slung an arm loosely around Fenris’ waist and leaned over to plant a light kiss on the elf’s shoulder, careful to avoid the lines of lyrium.

Fenris leaned back into Anders touch as he watched Nakusa head off towards where Isabela had gone.

“We’ll be going home soon,” he murmured. “Home. It’s funny, I never really thought of anywhere as ‘home’ before, but... Kirkwall is home now, with you and Invictus.”

“Not soon enough for me.” Fenris murmured before he turned in Anders arms and buried his face against the blond mages shoulder. Anders responded instinctively, his other arm lifting to encircle Fenris’ shoulders, his hand splayed warm and comforting against the elf’s shoulderblade as he lowered his head to press soft kisses against the raven-dark hair.

“I know, love,” he whispered.

“I want my bed, my lovers safe and I want my hair back to normal.” Fenris snapped in frustration as he tugged at the dark strands that now hung in his face.

“I think I can do something about that, at least,” said Zevran, his voice weary as he made his way back into the cave. Anders lifted his head and raised an eyebrow at his return. The Antivan shrugged. “Nakusa is speaking with her. I was getting nowhere at a frightening pace and she was amenable to listening to him so I left them to it. Come, _carissimi_ , shall we restore our tresses to their true glory once more?” He smiled tiredly as he made his way to his satchel and dug out a couple of packets.

“Very well.” Fenris said tiredly as he gave Anders a kiss then rose to follow Zevran. Once they were clear of the cave, he let the other elf see how bad off he was. There was no point in holding back from the Antivan, he saw through his walls no matter how well he built them.

Zevran slipped an arm easily around the taller elf’s waist as he led him towards the water. “I understand, my heart,” he said gently. “Sometimes it is better to let it out than try to hold back the rushing tide, no? Come, I will wash your hair clean of the black, and let tears fall as they may. We are alone.”

Fenris nodded and stripped before he entered the warm water. He cried silently until Zevran began to rinse his hair for the first time, then he allowed himself to sob in front of the other elf, until he quieted once more.


	26. Chapter 26

The two elves returned to the cave some time later, their hair wet but no longer black. If Fenris’ eyes seemed a little red and overly bright, it could perhaps be blamed upon the salt water they had bathed in; Anders and Invictus certainly said nothing concerning it.

The blond mage had carefully tidied the feathers into a pouch in his pack and had set tea to brewing. The birds were done and as Isabela pulled them apart, laying the meat on large broad leaves, Zevran was carving the cooked breadfruit into portions.

Nakusa poured the tea, Isabela folding another broad leaf into a cup for herself. 

Fenris sat with Invictus and Hawke, quiet as he ate and drank. Any desire to talk seemed to have been drained away with the dark colouring of his hair. He curled against Invictus, his arm wrapped around the other man’s waist both in comfort and protection.

Anders was withdrawn and quiet, eating without appetite, his gaze distracted as he pondered what Solona could have done to him. The more he thought on it, the more he realised it had to be the truth; he could feel his mind trying to skitter away from direct contemplation of the Warden and anything she may have done. The harder he tried to concentrate on the thought, the more he could feel his body reacting - his throat closing up, his chest tightening, a pain that wouldn’t be eased even when he dug the heel of his palm into his sternum and rubbed absently. He closed his eyes and tried to deliberately recall the conversation he’d had with Solona and a wave of nausea and dizziness swept over him.

He swallowed down the taste of bile and deliberately thought instead of the herbs he’d put in the tea, and almost at once his breathing came easier, his throat no longer feeling as though invisible hands were choking him.

Invictus slipped an arm around Fenris in return before he turned to give his lover a kiss on the temple. “Need anything love?” he murmured.

“Just you, Anders and Zevran near me for now. The rest can wait until we’ve found an inn or are back home. I can’t talk about it right now.” Fenris whispered back.

Zevran glanced across the small fire towards Fenris, brushing a damp platinum-blond strand of hair out of his eyes, but said nothing, his eyes flicking briefly over to Anders before down to his own food.

Fenris curled against Invictus and closed his eyes. He wasn’t alright and it was going to take a long time to get there again. 

Nakusa looked to Zevran, curious about what had transpired and why his sibling seemed so subdued after their time away from the cave.

Isabela ignored them all, tearing into her own food hungrily and devouring it swiftly, sucking the last pieces of flesh from the delicate bones and scraping the last of the breadfruit from its rind before eyeing up the food still sitting in front of Anders as the blond apostate picked at it absently. She jumped when Zevran tapped her on the wrist, then gratefully took the piece of breadfruit he handed her from his own plate.

“There is enough for all, no?” he murmured quietly. “You will not starve here, my friend.”

Invictus ate slowly, one arm wrapped tightly around Fenris as he finished his food. He didn’t look at Isabela, instead he tugged at Fenris so they could go to the back of the cave and pretend they had a semblance of privacy. He stretched out and pulled the elf to his chest so they could speak quietly or just lie there if that were what his warrior needed.

Fenris laid there with his cheek against Invictus’ chest, his eyes closed as he listened to the strong thump of the other man’s heartbeat. He had a lot to say but not until they were truly alone, and not under threat from the island or Isabela’s wrath.

After a while he heard Anders getting up, the scrape of the blade of his staff on the floor of the cave unmistakable as the blond apostate used it to help himself up before heading towards the cave entrance. Zevran murmured something softly; Anders’ reply was almost inaudible even to Fenris’ keen ears as the mage headed outside.

“What’s wrong with him?” Fenris mumbled as he turned towards the sound of Zevran’s voice.

“He’s not taking the news that Solona enthralled him well. He was almost as quiet as you were. Didn’t realize he’d gotten up until I heard his staff on the stone.” Vic replied tiredly.

“He said he needed fresh air,” said Zevran quietly. “Perhaps the cave is a little too small for his comfort.”

“Ok,” both mage and elf replied in unison. Fenris didn’t look to see where Zevran was, he honestly didn’t care about much of anything besides having Vic next to him. He needed the comfort of his human lover’s body next to his, the heat of his body, the sound of his heartbeat lulled him to sleep eventually.

Zevran cleared his throat; when Invictus looked at him curiously, he inclined his head to one side. “We should depart early tomorrow with the dawn,” said the Antivan quietly.

“Agreed, the sooner we head off, the sooner we can get home. Do you have any ideas for getting back to a nearby city?” Vic asked softly.

Zevran got up and shifted closer, mindful of the sleeping elf as he settled on the ground crosslegged, drawing a knife. He began to scratch a rough map of the south coastline of Seheron. “This is Alam, here,” he said, jabbing the point of his knife down into the dirt by an inlet. “We are, I think, about here.” He tapped the dirt a little way along the coastline. “There are three abandoned villages here, here and here. This one -” he tapped the dirt with a finger, “I think it was a fishing village perhaps. There were boats abandoned there when last I passed this way, some quite large. We may be able to find a boat seaworthy enough to get us across the channel.”

“And after that? The port in Alam is likely destroyed by now even if we could get there easily. Or do you mean to take a boat for a longer distance?” Vic asked as he looked over Zevran’s map.

Zevran sketched in the coast of Tevinter and Antiva then tapped the coastline. “I mean to make straight for this point. It is near the Antivan border on the Imperial side. It will be a risky venture in such a small vessel as we are likely to find, but our chances are better than if we take our chances on what we may find in Alam. The port will have been razed by the Qunari I think.”

“Find me a boat and I’ll get us there safely,” said Isabela suddenly, staring at them from across the fire. “The horned bastards couldn’t take _that_ from me.” She spat into the fire.

Invictus didn’t look at her, he found he couldn’t do so. Instead he glanced to Zevran and nodded in agreement. “Do you mind looking for Anders? I don’t want to leave Fenris right now.” 

“I’ll go,” said Isabela as she got to her feet and strode swiftly towards the cave entrance.

“I’ll be fine Vic, not a child,” Fenris mumbled before he turned so his back was to the Champion. 

“Go back to sleep, Isabela went anyway,” Vic muttered.

Isabela found Anders down on the beach. The mage had stripped off down to his shirt and smallclothes and had waded out into the water; he was staring out at the far horizon as the sun was setting, leaning on his staff.

“The others are worried about you,” she said without preamble.

“I’m worried about me too,” quipped Anders lightly as he glanced back over his shoulder at her. “How about you? Is that why you’re out here?”

She waded out into the surf to stand beside him. She took a deep breath then exhaled on a sigh.

“There were times I thought I’d never be free again; never hear the sea or feel the salt spray,” she said softly. “A part of me thinks I’m still back there, lying in that cell, waiting for them to come drag me off to the salt mines and drug me with qa’mek.”

“You’re free and this is no dream,” Anders reassured her. She grinned.

“Oh, I know. I can tell the difference between dreams and reality, sweet thing, believe me. I’ll bounce back, I always do.” She gave him a sidelong look. “As do you. Whatever this Warden did to you, you’re stronger. I’ve seen you deal with worse than this.” She folded her arms and stared out to the horizon. “I didn’t know Solona Amell as well as you did, obviously, but something doesn’t ring true about what I’ve heard you lot say about her. The Warden I knew would have died before she resorted to blood magic - and never on one of her own people. What happened?”

“Ansberg and the First Warden, I suspect,” replied Anders dourly. “She told me a little of what she was doing out here - not the whole story, but enough that -” He broke off with a grimace. “She -” His breath wheezed as he clutched at his throat, eyes widening in alarm, suddenly unable to breathe.

“Easy, sweet thing,” said Isabela as she slipped a comforting arm around his waist and caught his staff. “Deep breath and think about something else. Whatever she planted in you, evidently she doesn’t want you talking about warden business - or at least, not _this_ particular Warden’s business, anyhow.”

“You’re adjusting to freedom much faster than I’d expected,” said Anders when he could catch his breath again. She shrugged.

“Nothing ever keeps me down for long, Blondie, you should know that by now,” she said with a philosophical shrug. “Sooner or later I’d have made my break for it. I shan’t deny I was glad of the rescue however.” She shot him a grin. “Some habits may take a while to shake but just you wait till I’m on the deck of a ship again.”

“And Hawke?”

Her smile turned feral. “Oh, Hawke can just stew,” she said savagely. “I’ll admit I didn’t expect _him_ to show up here and I still have a score to settle with him, but for now? He can wait until we’re off this blasted island and I have the sea under my feet, a full belly, and a blade in my hand. I have bigger fish to fry than that backstabber - and frankly, given how things were going in Kirkwall, sooner or later someone was going to turn on me. I was surprised it was him but I shouldn’t have been. My own damned fault, and not a mistake I’ll ever make again.”

“He’s changed, Isabela,” said Anders quietly. “He’s not the man you thought you knew.”

“Has he?” she asked softly. “Don’t be so sure, sweet thing. He may have you fooled but don’t put your trust in him. Sooner or later he’ll break your heart and Fenris too. Trust only to what you can grasp with your own two hands, and the Void take the rest; that’s my advice.”

She tugged him back towards the beach. “Come on, you have goose pimples and I’m getting cold. Let’s get back to the fire. I’m still hungry and Zevran said there’s more food.”

He let himself be tugged back up onto the sand; gathering his clothes up, he took his staff back from the Rivaini woman and followed her back into the cave.

Invictus had fallen asleep before their return, but it was a light doze. He didn’t turn around when he heard Anders and Isabela’s voices carry in the small cave but he did speak softly. “When you are ready to lie down, we need you love.” 

Anders paused in the act of tugging his pants back on and glanced over to the other mage. Wordlessly he made his way to his pack, tugging out his bedroll and blanket before he tugged on his tunic then carefully picked his way past Nakusa to spread his bedding alongside Invictus. Dropping down onto the bedroll with a small sigh, he made sure his staff lay close at hand before he tugged his blanket over himself and then pressed against Invictus’ back, resting his hand against the darker mage’s hip. “What’s up, love?” he asked softly.

“We just needed your presence. He’s not alright and neither am I. We...missed you and we’re worried.” Invictus replied quietly. 

“Stop that; no coddling me, I’ve…” the elf’s voice dropped off mid-sentence as if he’d awoken just enough to begin an argument then decided against it half-way through.

“Not coddling, it’s care for you,” Vic whispered to him.

“If ever there were someone less in need of coddling....” Anders snorted as he levered himself up on one elbow to rest his chin on Invictus’ shoulder as he peered down at the elf. “You’re more than half asleep.”

Fenris rolled over and half-heartedly glared at his mage lovers. “I...sleep does not come easy to a weary mind. You both know this well.”

Anders frowned slightly. “Love, you’re rambling and not entirely with it. Listen to yourself. You’re complaining of not being able to sleep whilst you’re already half-asleep. No-one’s coddling you or fussing you, love. I’m here now; let’s all just lie down and get some rest. We’ll be off in the morning and hopefully be off this damned island by this time tomorrow.”

The elven fighter nodded, then laid down again. His eyes closed but his face didn’t relax in slumber for a long time. 

Invictus didn’t sleep, not as he felt his lover tense in his arms and mutter about his past, but he knew the elf had not fallen asleep and likely wouldn’t. His heart broke as he saw how Fenris could not relax enough to let his mind settle. Invictus eventually fell asleep, his dreams haunted by Qunari, magisters and vengeful pirates.

Behind him, Anders dropped swiftly into a deep slumber, so fast asleep his breathing was near-silent save for an occasional soft rasp as he shifted in his sleep, in complete contrast to the restless elf.

Fenris gave up on pretending to sleep and extricated himself to join Zevran during his watch. “Couldn’t sleep.” he murmured as he sat next to the blond Antivan.

The blond elf inclined his head. “Too many thoughts make for poor rest,” he said quietly as he ran a whetstone quietly along the edge of the blade of one of his daggers.

“You are well versed in such matters, yes?” Fenris said in an unintentional mimicry of his lover’s usual way of speech.

Zevran’s hands stilled on his blade and he chuckled quietly. “Just so,” he agreed. “Why else do you think I try to take first watch always?”

“I see now,” Fenris murmured. He watched as Zevran went back to working on his blades in the quiet of night.

“So.” The Antivan squinted at the edge of his blade and tested the edge cautiously with his thumb. The word was not quite question but more than a statement, inviting Fenris to speak his mind or not as he chose. Zevran tilted his head a little to one side as his golden eyes flicked up to the white-haired warrior’s face, the dying flames of the fire reflecting in their depths.

“There is much I wish to say, but not here. Not until we are safely again behind our walls. If there is a question you can ask that is...safe, I will answer.” Fenris said as he stared into the fire and avoided glancing at the other elf. 

“Ah,” said Zevran softly. “The troubled heart can be more dangerous than a rich man’s warded treasure room, yes? A false step too easy to make, the consequences just as painful in their own way. I could not know which words are safe until they are said, and a thing once said cannot be unsaid. _Carissimi_ , what comfort would you have from me? Not words, I think.”

The white haired elf’s brows drew down as he frowned. “It’s not safe to indulge in such things until we are at least off the island I think. I do not even know what I would need or want. I’m...my thoughts are muddled and thick like a swamp.” Fenris said tiredly.

Zevran slid his dagger back into its sheath and tucked the whetstone away into a pouch before gesturing to the ground between his feet. “Come, sit; there are other more innocent ways I can perhaps relieve that tension of yours, eh?”

Fenris nodded and sat where Zevran had suggested. “What would you have of me?” he asked. 

Zevran tugged lightly at the spiky leather and metal around Fenris’ shoulders. “Perhaps divest yourself of a little of your armour? It is hard to try and relax you when you are so sharp and hard, beloved.” There was the warmth of a smile in Zevran’s voice.

The warrior took off his pauldrons and sat them aside, then pulled his vest off as well as he realized what Zevran was likely up to.

“Much better,” nodded Zevran as his warm, supple fingers dropped lightly onto Fenris’ collarbones and then began to knead the tense muscles, easing away the tight knots where the warrior was coiled tight like a spring.

Fenris’ head dropped as Zevran worked on him. He couldn’t hold back the slight groans and gasps of appreciation as he felt his muscles unclench and loosen. “Think I’ll keep you…” he murmured before he moaned again, loud and nearly obscene.

“I am happy to hear it, _carissimi_ ,” purred Zevran softly.

Across the fire, Anders stirred. “So much for sleep,” he grumbled quietly, not lifting his head; there was no heat or real censure in his voice however as he shrugged the edge of his blanket closer around his ears.

Fenris froze and turned to glance at Zevran. “Maybe we should stop if I can’t be quiet. Anders barely sleeps as it is.” the fighter said guiltily. At that, Anders lifted his head and squinted blearily at the elf.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he frowned. “Whatever Zev’s doing, I can hear it’s relaxing you. If it means that eventually we _both_ get a decent sleep then I’m sure I can handle being awake a little longer. As long as Zev agrees to carry on that is.” He tilted his head at the Antivan.

“I am content to continue if you do not mind, Anders,” replied the elf.

“Very well, carry on.” Fenris said softly as he ducked his head and tried to keep himself quiet as Zevran resumed. The Antivan elf’s fingers flexed against his sore muscles once more, slowly and methodically working out the kinks and knots from far too long holding himself tense and alert until Fenris was slowly reduced to a limp and pliant mess between Zevran’s knees.

“Only thought...Anders could do this to me. You managed without magic.” Fenris slurred as he fought to stay upright.

Zevran chuckled softly. “I think perhaps now you may be able to sleep, yes? Do you feel able to walk back to bed or will you sleep here instead?”

“Here...unless you want to carry me.” Fenris mumbled. Zevran merely shook his head with a smile.

“ _Carissimi_ , you are taller and heavier than I. I could no more carry you than I could manage Hawke alone. Come, lie down here upon my bedroll. I must awaken Hawke shortly for the next watch anyway,” he replied as he spread his bedroll out and set his satchel as a pillow.

Hawke had been awake ever since he heard Fenris’ moans. “I’m awake, go lie with him.” Invictus muttered once he was on his feet and near the two elves. 

Zevran nodded as he stretched out alongside Fenris who was more than halfway asleep already even as he lay down. “Nakusa has third watch,” he said quietly as he tugged his blanket over the both of them.

Anders rolled over into the warm spot Hawke had just vacated and burrowed into the blankets until all that could be seen was a tuft of blond hair sticking out above the grey wool.

Fenris had dropped off the moment he touched the bedroll, his body against Zevran’s, relaxed for the first time in days. 

Hawke nodded and took up the same spot he’d had earlier, his gaze swept across the land, his heart heavy and his mind focused on the noises around them for anything out of the ordinary.

The rest of the night passed without incident. Nakusa rose before Hawke could wake him, going outside briefly before returning to take up position and gesturing to the Champion to rest once more. They were all awakened at dawn by the smell of tea brewing.

“What time is it?” Fenris muttered as he sat up and rubbed at his eyes blearily. 

“It’s dawn love, once we have tea we should pack up and head off.” Invictus said tiredly. 

Anders sat up and ran his hands over his face then through his hair, eyes unfocused. He nodded thanks as Nakusa handed him a mug of tea. Zevran sat up and kissed Fenris upon the cheek before rising to his feet and heading out of the cave.

The elven fighter untangled himself and went out to find a spot to answer nature’s call before he returned to the fire and took the tea handed to him. Anders by this point had gotten up, packed his things away and shifted over to sit by the rekindled fire with his tea and some flatbread that Isabela had cooked. The Rivaini pirate was wearing a spare pair of Zevran’s pants, the loose roughspun tunic now belted with a scarf; a second scarf hid the rough shorn black locks. 

Zevran strode back in a while later, his wet hair dripping down his back. 

Fenris took the flatbread handed to him and ate without much thought to it. He was exhausted in a lot of ways, and couldn't afford to let himself get too caught up in things until they were home.

Zevran accepted his breakfast and ate it standing as he glanced at the others. Nakusa was tucking into his own food; Isabela was devouring her own portion as though afraid someone might take it from her at any minute.

The white haired elf brushed his crumbs away then stretched. “Do I have time to bathe before we must go?” he asked of the Antivan elf.

“Yes, but swiftly; there is a stillness in the air I do not like, _carissimi_.” The Antivan seemed restless, glancing often at the sea through the cave entrance as he downed his tea.

“Then I will wait, especially if it means we can be away from here sooner.” Fenris replied. He went over to pack quickly, his movements hurried as could be. Hawke joined him and soon they were ready to depart.

Zevran stood fidgeting slightly, fingers lightly and silently drumming against his thigh as he waited for the others to be ready; uncharacteristically restless, he strode swiftly towards the cave entrance the moment elf and Champion had swung their packs to their shoulders, seemingly as eager as Anders to be rid of the cave. He led them swiftly up and away from the beach then along the coast, setting a fast pace as he sought to put as much distance between them and the beach as possible.

Anders glanced up at the sky then out at the grey sea; the Antivan’s restlessness seemed infectious and he felt uneasy himself. He found himself walking beside Isabela.

“Storm coming,” she observed tersely. “A bad one.”

“Where can we go? I don’t want to be caught out in a storm while in the middle of the water.” Fenris said tersely. Zevran and Anders’ agitation seemed to be spreading to the Tevinter elf and his human lovers.

“We push on,” said Zevran tersely. “There is a village up ahead, about an hour’s walk. I had hoped to find boats there, but perhaps we may take shelter until it has passed.” He glanced back at Fenris and grinned suddenly, his teeth flashing white in the gathering gloom. “A storm will make us that much harder to track by the Qunari. It is an ill wind that blows no-one any good, my friends!”

“Let’s make it a half hour, I want out of here more than you can understand.” Fenris growled.

“We’ll not be going anywhere once that storm hits,” muttered Anders as he glanced at the dark grey clouds on the horizon. There was a strange quality to the morning light; it seemed almost a sickly green, and the air was too still, too quiet - as though the forest had taken a breath and held it, waiting. No birds sang.

“Then I suggest you help us move quickly love.” Fenris answered.

“A little boost from me wouldn’t hurt either, it looks like the kind of storm that could kill.” Vic muttered.

Anders nodded and drew on his magic. Nakusa drew a hissing breath as the haste spell tingled across his skin, then nodded. “Let us move on,” he agreed.

Vic waited for Zevran to lead the way, but kept a fast clip as they moved towards the village. He supplemented Anders’ spell when needed until they were at the outskirts. “I am going to sleep for a week,” he gasped.

“You and me both,” the blond apostate panted, sending out another surge of magic as they ran.

“Not far now!” called Zevran just up ahead as the first fat drops of rain began to fall and a roll of thunder seemed to make the very rocks around them tremble as it reverberated off the cliff face across the shallow bay. Swift though they had run, the storm had moved faster.

The village had been abandoned some time ago; several buildings showed old signs of the Qunari attack that had caused the village to be abandoned long before their footsteps stirred the dust in the streets. Their footfalls echoed hollowly off faded stone walls and sunbleached doors as they made their way towards the centre of the village.

Lightning flashed, the thunder cracking closer as the storm drew on apace. Zevran was leading them towards one of the few buildings that still seemed relatively intact, its roof mostly undamaged; it had been a tavern once, though the wooden sign outside was so faded they could not tell what its name had been. They were all drenched to the skin by the time they stumbled inside.

Fenris sighed as he pulled his hair back. “So close, yet not quite fast enough.” he muttered.

Anders dropped into the nearest chair and swept his sopping hair back out of his eyes with one hand as he caught his breath. Nakusa frowned at his own soaked hair and began to wring it out.

“A bracing shower, no?” laughed Zevran as he shook his own wet locks out of his face. A rumble of thunder shook the windows in their frames as though to emphasise his words.

“Bracing is one way to put it.” Invictus grumbled. His hair had grown long enough to get in his eyes during their trip, something that irritated him as they made their way to get rooms. 

“At least we have our pick of rooms,” remarked Anders as he glanced in one door. “Though they’re all likely equally musty.”

“As long as they are dry, I don’t care.” Fenris said in a huff. He felt clammy and wanted nothing more than to get out of their wet clothes and dried off. Perhaps with a pleasant distraction from one of his lovers to ease his mood.

Anders disappeared into the room he’d glanced at, throwing his pack down as he stripped his sodden coat off, not bothering to close the door or turn to see if either of his lovers chose to follow him. Isabela took another room and firmly closed the door behind her.

Fenris tugged at Vic’s arm and headed towards the room next to Anders. He glanced back to see where Zevran was going to go, or if he wanted to come with them. The Antivan glanced at the white-haired warrior and arched an eyebrow.

The Tevinter elf leaned up to ask Vic if it was alright for Zev to join them. 

“Anything love, right now I’m not going to be a lot of fun so might as well enjoy yourself.” the Champion replied with a squeeze to Fenris’ hand. In turn, the warrior beckoned to Zevran so they could strip off and get dry.

Zevran shrugged with a faint smile and followed them into the room.

Nakusa stood in the hallway with a look of indecision, glancing at the door to their room then at the other doors in the hallway. After a little while he took the next room along, next to Anders’ room, glancing around before sitting uncomfortably on the edge of the bed and feeling uneasy. As a slave, he had never had his own room before, and since escaping from Varania he had never been alone. The room seemed very empty and lonely, filled only with the sound of rain beating against the small window pane and the rumbling of thunder as the storm raged on outside.

Anders was oblivious to the storm; he hunted through his pack until he found a shirt that was only slightly damp and stripped off his wet clothes to change before untying his hair and combing through the damp locks with his fingers, spreading his hair out across his shoulders to dry. He eyed the small fireplace and wondered if they dare risk fires here.

Fenris stretched out once he was naked and found a towel to dry off. “What do we do once the storm has passed?” he asked of the other men in the room.

“Isabela and I will inspect the boats in the harbour and see if any are seaworthy enough to take us from Seheron,” replied Zevran as he stripped down to his pants then began unbraiding his damp hair.

“Alright.” Fenris said as he carded his fingers through his hair to untangle it. 

“I should check on Anders and Nakusa, I don’t trust that Isabela won’t shank me even if I bring her dinner and drink.” Vic said as he dug out a shirt and trousers that were merely damp instead of soaked.

“I shall go look and see what state the kitchen is in shortly,” replied Zevran as he shook his damp hair loose.

Fenris nodded as he fell to bed and laid on his back. “I could sleep for a week.” he muttered.

“Do not sleep overlong, _carissimi_ ; be certain the Qunari will not wait a week,” replied Zevran as he headed down towards the kitchen.

“Once we’re on a boat, I will catch up on rest.” the elf muttered as he curled on his side. “Be safe _carissimi_.” Fenris said as he started to fall into a hard slumber. 

Invictus found Nakusa still sitting on his bed in the empty room, his face impassive as he sat still, his hands resting upon his knees as he sat straight-backed.

“Nakusa? Are you ok?” Vic asked quietly so he didn’t startle the other elf.

The scarred elf turned his head, his eyes reflecting the uncertainty he felt. “I am... not used to being alone, in a room of my own,” he replied slowly.

“Do you want anyone to come and stay with you?” Vic offered.

Nakusa’s gaze dropped to the floor as he considered. Then slowly he shook his head. “No. This is what freedom is, is it not? There will be many nights in which I am alone. Best I get used to it.”

“If you change your mind we are not far.” Vic gave him a smile and turned away. “We’re going to find food in a bit, I will be back when it’s ready.”

Nakusa nodded, his expression still sombre. “How fares my brother?” he asked.

“He’s exhausted and I worry for his ...state of mind. Perhaps a visit from you would help once he’s slept and eaten a hot meal for a change?”

“Whatever you think best,” acquiesced Nakusa. 

“I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you Nakusa.” Vic left and went to Anders room and entered quietly. “Hey, mind if I come in?”

Anders lifted his head from the pillow; he’d simply lain down for a moment to rest but the sound of Invictus’ voice startled him from the light doze he’d inadvertently drifted into, lulled by the sound of the rain against the window.

“Oh, Hawke,” he said, sitting up. “Come on in.” He ran a hand through his dark blond hair as he shifted up to sit with his back against the headboard.

Invictus entered and joined Anders in bed. “How are you doing? Do you need to get back to sleep?” the dark haired mage leaned in and gave his lover a kiss on the cheek.

“No, I-” The blond apostate broke off as he yawned, then shook his head. “No, I think I should eat before I sleep properly,” he finished. “It just took it out of me a bit, running and keeping up a haste spell on so many at the same time.”

“Zevran went to check on food, maybe we can all eat together and perhaps I’ll nap with you if you don’t mind.”

“Are we risking fires or is it cold fare?” asked Anders as he swung his legs over the side of the bed to the ground then stood, grimacing as he stretched, arms over his head as he arched his back and his spine cracked loudly.

“There might be hot food, I hope there’s hot food.” Vic said as he stood as well. He tugged Anders into his arms and leaned in close enough for a kiss. “May I?”

Anders lowered his arms to rest loosely around Invictus’ neck and grinned. “Anytime, love,” he said as he inclined his face towards the Champion, his eyes drifting half shut.

Vic kissed him slowly, put his heart into it as if he’d never get the chance again. He pulled back for air and smiled. “Haven’t done that in a while, I’ve missed it.” 

Anders’ answering smile was dreamy as he opened his eyes. “We haven’t exactly had the opportunity, love,” he pointed out quietly. “We’ll be on our way home soon though.”

“Can’t wait to get there. Maybe after dinner, I could sleep in here with you, do a bit more of that before we rest?” Vic said hopefully.

Anders chuckled. “I’d certainly be amenable to that,” he nodded. “If we’re chancing fires for hot food, I might light one in here first to help warm this room and dry my clothes out though. It’ll be somewhat damp and uncheerful in here otherwise.”

“A small one can’t hurt. I’d be happy to be warmer at any rate. Come on, let’s see if Zev has gotten any food.” Vic leaned in and kissed Anders again, but stepped away before it could deepen.

Anders couldn’t help a small sigh as Invictus pulled away, but nodded. “Let me just get the fire started,” he said as he moved towards the grate. Wood had been stacked nearby - how long ago, it was hard to tell, but it was thick with dust. He stacked it in the grate then set the fire swiftly alight with a spark of magic from his fingers. Pulling a couple of chairs over near the fire, he spread his damp clothing over them so they would dry, and pulled out the contents of his pack to air before turning and nodding to the Champion. 

Invictus took his hand before he went and sought out the others, but left Isabela alone for the moment. He found Zevran in the remains of the kitchen working to make something edible.

The Antivan looked up and smiled as they entered. “Fortune is with us, my friends; though nothing fresh remained edible, I found good store of dried foods in the pantry and cellar. We should dine fairly well I think.” He gestured at the pot that bubbled on the stove; a spiced, savoury smell arose from the thick stew simmering, and the scent of fresh-baking bread wafted through the kitchen. “We have our pick of good wines, though what beer was in the kegs is undrinkable I fear.”

“You said wine?” Fenris asked as he came over to sniff at the pot and smile. “You are a miracle worker.” the elf grinned at the other elf warmly. “I will chance getting Isabela out of her room, and perhaps get some wine on the way back. Where is it?”

“I have set out several bottles that looked passably decent,” replied Zevran as he nodded towards one of the nearby counters. An open bottle of _Aggrigio Pavali_ stood near the stove; from the looks of the remains in the bottom of a nearby empty glass the Antivan had poured it liberally into himself as well as the stew, though he seemed none the worse for the wine.

“Haven’t seen that since I finished the last bottle in the mansion.” Fenris remarked as he snagged the open bottle on his way to Isabela’s room. He knocked twice and stepped back in case she came out ready to swing.

The door opened and Isabela appeared, staring at the bottle in his hand. Wordlessly she snatched it from his fingers and took a long pull. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand and grinned. “Have you any idea how long it’s been since I had a drink?” 

Fenris didn’t return her grin since he didn’t care for the way she’d snatched the bottle from him. “No, I had come to tell you dinner will be ready soon and there’s more wine in there but since you’ve helped yourself, keep the bottle.” 

She merely grinned and raised the bottle in salute, unrepentant. “Cheers, I shall,” she replied as she sauntered out into the hall and headed downstairs.

Fenris followed behind her back to the kitchen, where he snagged another bottle of wine and opened it. 

Invictus helped Zevran finish with the food, then looked for something they could eat on, or at least wash. He found large stacks of clean crockery in one of the cupboards, only the topmost plates particularly dusty. Anders helped him fetch the tableware as Zevran located more glasses and rinsed them.

Anders straightened suddenly as he set down the plates. “Nakusa! We nearly forgot him! I’ll go fetch him,” he exclaimed.

“I’ll go, you all settle in. Just leave some for us.” Fenris said before he headed down the hall to fetch his sibling. He entered to find Nakusa laid across the bed but not asleep.

“Dinner is nearly ready, Zevran was able to make a hot meal, and there’s wine if you wish to join us.” Fenris offered.

Nakusa rose and gave his sibling a wan smile. “Started on the wine already?” 

“Yes, I’d say we all earned more than a few drinks. Want some?” Fenris offered his brother the bottle, and smiled when the older elf took a pull before handing it back. 

“A little bitter, a little sweet. Interesting. It’s not as if I was allowed to have wine except at Master’s leisure.” Nakusa opened the door and fell into step with the younger elf as they returned to the kitchen.

“I know, but you’re free and can do as you please. I will teach you what I know of drink so you can decide what you like and what you do not.” Fenris entered to find everyone had taken a seat, and left spots open for them. 

Fenris grabbed another bottle of wine for the table, served himself and his brother before he took a seat between Anders and Invictus. That left a seat to Isabela’s right for Nakusa, opposite Fenris. She flicked her eyes briefly in his direction as he seated himself, then turned her attention to her bowl of stew as Zevran ladled out generous portions for the two brothers then took his seat on the other side of Isabela, directly opposite Anders.

There was silence around the table for a time as each was preoccupied with the good hearty stew and fresh-baked bread. Isabela was the first to reach for a second helping; Zevran said nothing, merely sliding the platter of bread rolls towards her before serving himself another portion of stew. 

Anders glanced up and watched as Isabela washed the food down with liberal swigs directly from the wine bottle, then glanced towards Zevran who merely shrugged with a small smile. He was about to speak when a loud crack of thunder rattled the windows. The Antivan elf blinked and glanced up as a small drift of dust spiralled hazily down from the ceiling.

“It is well we are inside; this night would be ill for sleeping under the open sky, no?” he remarked quietly. “Far better to listen to it outside whilst we dine on stew and enjoy fine wines.”

“Right now even Corff’s ratpiss would tast good after what I’ve been fed on,” replied Isabela tersely before taking another swig from her bottle of wine. Anders watched her with sympathetic eyes then dropped his gaze back to his own stew as her eyes flicked over towards him. 

“I trust this vintage exceeds the merits of Corff’s dubious wares,” replied Zevran as he took a sedate sip from his own glass.

“I certainly have no complaints,” grunted Fenris as he refilled his own glass then topped up Nakusa’s. Anders glanced at the wine in the glass then at Nakusa’s flushed face.

“Go easy, you’re not used to drinking,” the blond apostate remarked quietly. Nakusa glanced at him then nodded as he lifted the glass to his lips and sipped slowly.

“Nor are you,” replied Fenris a trifle belligerently as he gave Anders a pointed stare.

“Not any more,” agreed Anders with a shrug.

“You used to be able to match Oghren drink for drink, friend Anders,” mused Zevran. Anders chuckled wryly.

“Not quite match him,” he replied. “I could hold my own for a while. Nothing like you though. I swear you’re the only man I’ve ever known who could actually drink that dwarf under the table.”

“Anders lost his stomach for drink long ago - round about the same time ol’ Stick-in-the-mud Justice showed up, am I right?” said Isabela as she lowered her bottle. From the slight flush of her cheeks and the overbright look of her eyes, Anders guessed Isabela’s time in captivity had robbed her of much of her own tolerance for alcohol. “Speaking of which, you’ve been remarkably... _unglowy_ , Anders,” she added. “I’m surprised Justice didn’t put in an appearance back there when you busted me out - I should have been able to hear him ranting about injustice clear across the bay.”

Anders stared down into his stew.

“Anders is no longer possessed,” said Fenris firmly, his eyes unfriendly as he gave Isabela a warning look. Anders shifted uncomfortably in his seat, one hand stealing up to rub absently at his chest. He was keenly aware of eyes upon him.

“Hang on - how is that possible?” asked Isabela, frowning. “I thought he and Justice were, y’know - supposed to be inseparable? Except by dying?” She stared at Anders. “You look remarkably healthy for a dead man.”

“Long story,” muttered Anders. 

“I’m not going anywhere, sweet thing,” Isabela slurred. 

Fenris slapped a hand on the table as he glared at the Rivaini woman, half-rising from his seat with an involuntary growl. He checked himself as he felt Invictus’ hand upon his arm and glanced down as the dark-haired mage shook his head almost imperceptibly. Anders held himself still as Fenris dropped heavily back into his seat between the two mages and stared steadily down into his almost-empty bowl of stew.

“Later, Isabela,” interjected Zevran smoothly with a smile. “Come, none of us are going anywhere, at least not until morning. Anders is tired, and your bottle is empty - let me fetch you another.”

“Ever the gentleman, Zev,” grinned Isabela as she leaned back in her seat.

Anders felt quiet relief as Zevran deflected Isabela’s attention deftly with another bottle of wine and tried to ignore the way Fenris bristled beside him as the inebriated woman flirted with the Antivan elf, her hands wandering as he passed her another bottle of wine. He wondered if Fenris were going to start a fight right there at the table but thankfully Fenris subsided with only murderous glares in Isabela’s direction as Invictus leaned in close to whisper something in the white-haired warrior’s ear.

Isabela’s speech became more slurred and indistinct as the level of wine in the bottle dropped, until finally her head drooped and she slumped in her seat. Zevran rose and gently swung the insensate woman up into his arms before carrying her carefully from the room. He returned a short time afterwards to resume his seat with a small smile.

“What did you put in her wine?” asked Anders curiously. Zevran merely smiled enigmatically and refilled his own glass. He lifted it in a silent toast to the blond apostate before sipping slowly and leaning back in his chair.

The atmosphere perceptibly changed with Isabela’s absence; a palpable sense of relief and tensions unwinding a little. Anders could feel himself starting to slowly relax, the tight feeling around his chest easing as he leaned back in his chair to sip slowly at his own glass of wine. Even Fenris seemed to lose some of his tenseness as he rose to fetch another bottle of wine; he refilled his own glass and that of Invictus. He glanced to Anders inquiringly but the apostate shook his head and put his hand over the mouth of his half-full glass. He was only on his second glass but he knew a third would be a bad idea; as it was, he felt pleasantly buzzed. He glanced over at Nakusa, who had barely drunk one glass yet already seemed on the verge of nodding off in his chair, his hunger sated after two bowls of stew.

The room was warm, he was fed and comfortable, and as Anders sat there and listened to Invictus and Fenris quietly talk of nothing much in particular, he let his mind wander. It was not until he felt Zevran’s hand upon his shoulder that he realised he had nodded off where he sat. He lifted his head and blinked as he looked around.

“I think perhaps our healer should be in his bed, no?” said the Antivan gently. “Fenris, I think perhaps your brother also?” He bent down and lifted Anders’ arm across his shoulders as he hauled the mage to his feet.

“I’m OK, I can walk,” protested Anders, even as he stumbled a little. Zevran’s only reply was a low chuckle as Invictus and Fenris got Nakusa to his feet.

“Lead on; we’ll follow,” said Invictus, nodding to Zevran. “We could all do with a good rest.”

“What if the Qunari come?” asked Anders.

“In this weather?” Zevran shook his head. “It is doubtful. We are far ahead of any pursuit but we shall douse all lights nonetheless, and I shall take first watch. But I think we are, for the moment, safe.”

“I shall take second watch,” rumbled Fenris quietly.

“Guess that leaves third for me then,” shrugged Invictus as they made their way towards the stairs.

Anders let himself be guided up the stairs towards his room by the blond-haired elf. He paused by the door to Isabela’s room; Zevran’s eyes followed his glance.

“She will not stir until after dawn,” the Antivan said with a shrug. “Do not worry, friend Anders. Hawke need not trouble himself about her - nor you either.”

Anders wanted to argue, but he was tired, too full of wine and food and too much in need of sleep. He merely shrugged and allowed Zevran to tug him on into his own room. Zevran eased him down onto the edge of the bed; Anders had just enough presence of mind to tug off his boots before he let himself sink down into the bed, tugging the blanket up over himself.

He was asleep before Zevran could leave the room.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mix days on end of rain, a bunch of crabby people who barely tolerate each other and a near brush with death, you get a whole lot of drama. Will they make it through the storm with everyone in one piece?

The storm raged through the night, but Anders slept on oblivious as rain and hail dashed against the windows and drummed upon the roof as the thunder cracked overhead, each flash of lightning illuminating his room in harsh white light. He was completely unaware of Zevran slipping into the room to check on him during the course of his watch, or Fenris doing the same in turn. He did not stir when the white-haired elf stroked the dark blond hair away from his face then crouched down to check he was breathing, so deeply was he asleep. Nor was he aware when Nakusa crept into his room as the storm raged; he slept on, insensible, as the scarred elf curled up upon the foot of his bed. The fire in the grate burned low into glowing embers as the night wore on.

It was the crash of the seawall collapsing into the sea as the waves washed over the meagre sea defences then raced in to inundate the village that finally startled him from his slumber to jerk awake with a hoarse cry before staring around himself, disoriented and confused as another lightning flash lit up his room. He drew upon his magic instinctively then stared around himself as the magefire upon his outstretched palm illuminated the room in a soft warm glow.

Awakened from an uneasy sleep by the draw of magic upon his brands and Anders’ low cry, Nakusa started up, his lyrium lighting up brilliant silver that rivalled the light that danced upon Anders’ palm, even as Fenris burst into the room, his sword drawn and similarly lit up.

Ascertaining at a glance that Anders was unharmed and that there was no intruder in the room, the white-haired warrior crossed to the window and squinted out past the sheeting water and salt spray that covered the pane of glass. 

“The sea has come over the seawall; the village is flooded,” he observed quietly. 

“There’s water all around the inn,” said Zevran from the door; Fenris turned, unsurprised that the other elf had been stirred back to wakefulness.

“Is everyone OK?” asked Invictus behind Zevran, his voice thick with sleep though the staff in one hand and the lightning dancing over the other indicated his instincts were unblunted and he was alert - at least enough for magic.

“I was just startled,” said Anders as he let the magefire in his hand die; with two brightly-lit elves in his room it seemed somewhat superfluous. He flinched as lightning lit the room again, the harsh crack of thunder following immediately as the glass rattled in the window frame.

“Do you think the Qunari would be able to make it through the floodwaters?” asked Invictus.

Fenris shook his head. “No creature would survive outside on this night,” he answered. 

“It is as well this inn was built sturdily, is it not?” observed Zevran.

“Indeed,” replied Fenris.

“Well, evidently no-one’s going to get any more sleep tonight,” observed Isabela from the doorway of her room. “I’ll go stir up the fire in the kitchen and we can have something hot to drink.” She turned and headed towards the stairs but paused halfway down. “The bottom floor’s flooded!” she called back up.

“Knickerweasels,” muttered Anders. “Well, I guess no-one’s going anywhere for a while.” He swung his legs out of bed and stood, making his way over to the stack of firewood beside the fireplace and stirred up the embers with the poker. “Anyone think to check our water supplies? How much have we got in our canteens?”

Zevran laughed. “We are surrounded by water, and dare not drink a drop!” he exclaimed. “I shall check our packs.” He headed into the next room.

“Mine’s only half full,” said Anders gloomily.

“Just fucking great,” growled Invictus. “So either we’re stuck here until the Qunari come calling, or we die of thirst. Anyone got any bright ideas?”

Anders ignored him and turned to root around in his pack, pulling out a cooking pot. He made his way over to the window and wrestled with the catch then forced it open against the wind. 

His thin linen shirt was drenched through in seconds, but he gritted his teeth against the freezing cold as he held the pot out of the window. With the torrential deluge from the sky, the pot was filled swiftly. Nakusa was at his side and wrestled the window shut again as Anders staggered back from the window, dripping wet and shaking his soaked hair back out of his face as he carried the pot of rainwater over to the fireplace and set it over the reawakened flames before straightening, pulling his wet hair back out of his face.

“We may not be able to drink the stuff surrounding us, but there’s plenty of drinkable water coming down from the sky right now,” the blond mage shrugged as he stripped out of his sodden shirt, shivering a little as he reached for the dry one slung over the back of a chair near the fire.

“Good idea,” nodded Invictus. “Come on Fenris, let’s see how many cooking pots we have between us and get them filled.”

“I’ll check the other rooms on this floor and see if there’s anything we can catch water in,” said Isabela. “Must be some clean if dusty chamberpots around here or something.”

“Go help Isabela look, Nakusa,” said Anders as he crouched down to feed more wood to the fire. The scarred elf nodded and followed Isabela down the hall as the other mage and the white-haired elf disappeared into their own room to retrieve pots and pans and fill them.

Nakusa found a copper bath tub in a nearby room, and between them all with many trips to the windows with pots, pans, chamberpots and a vase Isabela found in one room they eventually filled it. The storm outside showed no signs of abating as they all huddled around the fire in Anders’ room afterwards, damp, to drink tea and discuss what to do next.

“How long do you think it will take the floodwaters to go down?” asked Anders. Zevran shrugged.

“Depends how long this rain keeps up,” said Isabela. “We’re into the storm season now, so this one could blow over tomorrow or we could be in for several days of it yet.”

“Several days?” exclaimed Anders with dismay. Isabela shrugged.

“Look at it this way, sweet thing - we may not be going anywhere, but nor are the Qunari in this weather.” She glanced up at the rain-drenched window as the wind howled outside. “Though I don’t fancy our chances of finding an intact boat in the harbour after the storm passes now the sea wall has gone.”

Invictus groaned as he considered their options. “I’ll wade in downstairs, see how bad it is, just keep a fire going.” 

Anders glanced over at him with a dubious expression. “Is that wise? There could be dangerous currents down there, and Maker knows what the seawater might have swept in with it.”

“I know how to swim if I get tugged into down. Besides, I’m tall enough that if the water gets too high on me, I’ll know it’s too deep for the rest to wade through.” Vic pulled off his boots and started to roll his pants up but gave up when he realized he’d be soaked regardless.

“Invictus, that’s dangerous and stupid. You don’t need to do that.” Fenris cautioned.

“If I can gauge the water and rescue any supplies, it is worth it. I’ll be fine love.” Vic left his staff with Anders, said a prayer to whatever might be listening and headed down.

“Just watch out for the snakes!” Isabela called after him, a malicious gleam in her eyes. 

“Snakes?” exclaimed Anders, horrified.

“Of course. Sea snakes - they come inland when it floods. Saltwater crocodiles too, though they’d probably be too big to fit through wherever the water’s come in down there. Well, the big ones would.”

“H-how big?” faltered Anders.

“Well, the little ones are only about as long as Zevran there,” she shrugged and looked down into her mug. “More tea, anyone?”

Vic glared back at her but didn’t rise to the bait, if he did he’d have run back up the stairs before she could finish her tale. He carried on towards the kitchen, focused on how high the water was as he went.

Fenris glared at Isabela as he passed by her, unamused by her tales. “If he dies and you laugh this rescue will be for naught.” 

“Are the snakes poisonous?” asked Anders, worried, as he rose to his feet.

“Some are,” replied Isabela, no longer smiling.

“That’s it, I’m going after him,” the blond mage said determinedly as he snatched up his staff and headed for the door.

“You are not going anywhere, sit down. If anyone has to rescue him it will be me.” replied the elven warrior. He fiddled with the toggles of his vest as if he knew he’d have to jump in.

Vic had tuned them out, his focus on the doorway ahead of him. He’d stopped once when he felt something graze his ankle, and once more when he felt the water line top his belt. “It’s really high by the kitch---” was all he got out before he was yanked under the brackish water.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Anders snapped at Fenris as he pushed past him. “I’m taller than you - taller than any of you. It makes more sense if I-” He froze as Invictus’ voice was suddenly cut off with a loud splash, then he whirled and leapt after the other mage, his staff forgotten as he took the stairs two at a time then plunged into the water, unheeding of his own safety. “Invictus? HAWKE!”

Invictus was preoccupied with the creature that had pulled him under, and trying to get it off him while not inhaling who knew what. He broke the surface once before it tugged him towards the back end of the inn, and where it hoped to make a meal of the mage.

Fenris didn’t think, he started to strip off his vest, then gave up when the toggles on his armor took too long. He was determine to save them, or at the least not let him drown before him.

“ _Carissimi_ , no!” exclaimed Zevran as he threw himself forward and caught at Fenris’ wrist. “I cannot let you go after them!”

Anders was aware of their voices behind them but paid them no heed. He called up a ball of light and stared desperately about the flooded common room; the light reflected off the black waters that lapped against the walls and around his waist. The water was bitterly cold; it was like wading through ice. _Like Lake Calenhad after winter_ , he found himself thinking. “Hawke?” he called, but there was no answer.

The kitchen. Invictus had called that the water was deeper by the kitchen. He began to force himself through the cold water, against the swirling eddies that tugged at his sodden shirt. The water rose towards his chest as he approached the kitchen. “Hawke?” he called, casting about for any sign of the other mage. 

Then he took a deep breath and dove under the water.

Invictus tried to call out but swallowed water instead so he splashed as he tried to struggle free of the creatures grip. He felt it tighten around his leg while he fought to at least break the surface. 

Fenris watched from the landing, gaze locked to the sudden movement. “There, there Anders, look!” he called out. 

Anders’ head broke the surface, his ragged gasp for air echoing over the surface of the water as he shook wet hair out of his eyes. He glanced back at Fenris then turned to follow the elf’s pointing finger; then he took a deep breath and dove beneath the black waters once more as he struck out, reaching through the inky blackness.

His hand closed about something smooth and scaly in the water; he snatched his hand back and a bubble of air burst from his mouth as he unthinkingly tried to shout. He kicked for the surface for another hasty lung of air then dove again. This time, when his hand touched scales he didn’t recoil but instead followed the creature’s body until he touched something warm. 

Invictus’ arm.

He felt up the other mage’s arm until he touched Invictus’ face, and then he pulled himself towards the other man. He was aware of Invictus’ eyes, wide, viewed dimly through the murky water; and then he sealed his lips across Invictus’ mouth and breathed his lungful of air into Invictus.

Vic took in the air gratefully as he held onto to the other mage. He pointed at his leg as he pulled back, mouth closed so Anders could breathe.

Fenris paced in the tight space, his expression flickered between fear and anger as he watched the spot they both were in for a sign either man was alright. “Don’t die, don’t die...please.” he rasped as he stopped at the rail and watched for bubbles, a dark or blond head, any sign they were alive.

Anders pushed up through the water; his face broke the surface and he hastily gulped more air before he let the dark waters close over his head once more, diving down to Invictus’ leg to tug and push at the coils of the serpent’s body that held the other mage fast. He felt it shift as he dug his fingers into it, his hands growing numb from the cold. 

As was he, he suddenly realised; he could feel himself growing chilled the longer he stayed in the icy water.

Ice. 

To think was to act. He grasped the snake firmly and let ice flow from his hands, freezing the serpent’s flesh.

The snake began to thrash wildly in the water; Anders was thrown violently about but clung on as it hurled them both about, and then he channelled fire. The water around them exploded into steam and Anders gritted his teeth as his hands were scalded. But he was rewarded by the snake finally releasing Invictus.

Anders grasped the motionless mage and struck out for the surface, putting as much distance between himself and the wounded serpent as possible.

“No...Maker no…” Fenris whispered as he whirled away from Zevran and the others and down to help haul Invictus out. “Don’t be dead, don’t be dead, don’t be dead.” he pleaded in Tevene as he watched Anders get close enough for him to pull his lover back up the stairs.  
Invictus was pale, cold and certainly looked as if he’d slipped beyond the Veil. He didn’t respond to the elf’s touch or the pleas to just open his damned eyes. 

“N-n-not de-d-d-de-” Anders couldn’t get the words out; his teeth were chattering as his body was racked with shivers, half-frozen from the frigid waters. He flung himself down beside Invictus and hauled the mage onto his side and then channelled healing into the limp, motionless form. Invictus’ body shuddered, and then a gout of dirty water gushed from his nose and mouth and the dark-skinned mage coughed.

Anders kept the healing magic flowing, driving the water out from Invictus’ lungs; he was oblivious to his own shivers, or the warm dry blanket Zevran hastily draped over his shoulders. His attention was focused entirely on his work; he was oblivious even to Fenris.

“N-n-not gu- gu- gonna let y-you d-d-die,” he ground out as his body shook spasmodically. “N-not t-t-today!”

Fenris held onto his lovers hands, his voice rough as he pleaded for Vic to open his eyes, squeeze his hand, anything to show he was alive. He begged through tears, distraught enough to miss the feeble tug against his wrist, his name lost among the gagging as Invictus started to revive just a bit.

Anders lifted his head, feeling the stirrings of consciousness in the body beneath his hands as the magic continued to flow, silvery-blue. “H-H-Hawke? L-l-love?” he managed to gasp out.

Invictus managed to open his eyes with more effort than he liked. “You were right, that was a stupid idea.” he tried to wipe Fenris’ tears away but couldn’t muster the energy. “Cold, sleepy now.” he muttered before his eyes closed again.

“I’m going to murder you Invictus Endrin Hawke.” Fenris said as he wiped his own face dry. “Once I’m satisfied you’re not going to die on me.” He leaned against a bannister with a sigh. 

“Anders...come here, please. I think we all need the warmth.” 

Anders lifted his head from where he’d slumped against the sodden landing carpet and stared dully at Fenris. “H-h-hnn?”

“Come, let us get them both into the warmth of Anders’ room, quickly,” said Zevran as he crouched over the shivering mage. Isabela was at his side with more warm blankets; she threw one to Fenris before dropping another around Anders then bending to help Zevran lift the blond mage, whose movements were slow and uncoordinated. Nakusa moved around them to try and lift Invictus up into a sitting position.

Fenris helped get Vic propped up against the wall, covered in blankets and shoved a mug of tea into his hands. “Drink, I’ll find something for you to eat love. I’ll be right back.” The warrior left the room so the others wouldn’t see him falter, hear his voice break as he rummaged for something to give Vic. He was shaken and didn’t think he could bear anyone witnessing the breakdown he felt coming on.

Zevran and Isabela had managed between them to bundle Anders into a chair close to the fire, wrapped in blankets and shivering. He was shaking too hard to hold the mug of tea Nakusa offered him; the scarred elf carefully held it to the blond mage’s lips as Anders slowly sipped, eyes closed.

“Come on, Zev, let’s get Hawke closer to the fire,” muttered Isabela, her voice cool and businesslike - she may as well have been suggesting they move a log of wood. Zevran glanced at her then nodded; between them they managed to man-handle Invictus into a second chair close to the fire, and then Zevran held Invictus’ mug as the other mage slowly drank the reviving tea whilst Isabela tended the fire. She didn’t look up when Fenris appeared bearing what rations he’d found, but she set a second pan of water on the fire.

“If you’ve any dried meat there, I can get a stew started,” she said without looking up.

Fenris ignored her, his focus was on helping his lovers and not letting the anger that had welled up out and aimed at her. He wanted to, he wanted to rail and scream so much it made his jaw clench. Her joke had come to pass and he was not amused.

Vic took the rations with a shaky hand, but he refused to let anyone baby him. He chewed slowly, glad for Fenris’ presence between them.

The warrior passed Nakusa some rations for Anders to take when he was ready then curled against Invictus to help warm him. Zevran was already stripping off his shirt; he glanced at Fenris. “You will not, I think, object if I share my body’s warmth with our frozen healer on this occasion _carissimi_ , no?” he murmured quietly.

“No, just want them safe, dry. I don’t care how.” Fenris replied as he curled closer to Vic. 

“You took a few years off my life back there, don’t do it again.” he whispered in Tevene.

“I won’t, I’m...s, so, sorry love.” Vic stuttered as he felt a chill sweep through him. “You knew I was stupid when you met me though.”

Zevran tugged Anders’ blankets open then stripped the shivering mage out of the damp shirt before leaning Anders forward so he could slip into the chair behind him. Then he pulled Anders against himself and wrapped the blankets around them both, wrapping his arms around Anders beneath the rough yet warm wool. Anders’ eyes remained closed as he shivered, his lips blue; he let his head drop back to rest upon Zevran’s shoulder. The elf watched Fenris and Invictus sombrely, his golden eyes reflecting the firelight.

Isabela got to her feet and left the room; she reappeared presently with a small flask which she shoved into Fenris’ hands. “Brandy. Get a couple of fingers of that inside him. And start rubbing his arms and legs; you need to get the circulation going.” She crossed over to Anders and crouched down at his feet then began to rub his legs briskly with another blanket, chafing them to restore the circulation. “Trust me, I’ve had to save my fair share of overboard sailors in my time,” she added quietly over her shoulder.

“So now you offer help, I’m sure you wouldn’t have cared if he died.” Fenris snapped as he he nudged Invictus up and towards the bed. He knew Isabela was right, but he had a hard time accepting her knowledge. Once Vic was bundled up, he began to work on his lover, his back to the others as he went, flask left by Anders and Zevran. 

“Love...don’t. She’s ...she’s right. Saw it on the way to Kirkwall enough times. Bundle up with me, keep me warm?” Vic asked softly in Tevene. He knew his elven lover well enough to know that a flare of rage was brewing and it wasn’t the time or place for it.

Isabela ignored the exchange and Fenris’ vitriol, instead sorting through Anders’ pack until she found dried venison and some vegetables that were still more or less fit for eating, and she set about making a stew. Zevran watched quietly as Anders lay limp in his arms, his body still shuddering occasionally but his lips not quite so blue. 

“I have a right to be angry Invictus, do not ...just don’t. I know she’s right, that makes it worse.” Fenris muttered as he set the leg he’d started on down and picked up Vic’s other leg. “I’ll get the brandy once I’m done with this. I thought, I …” the elf’s voice hitched as he fought not to let the others see how distraught he still was.

“I’m not and being vicious won’t help right now. Much as I hate to say that, believe me. I know she wouldn’t care if I dropped dead this second, but for how much it would pain you and Anders. It will be alright love, we’ll get home and we’ll never leave again.” Vic replied before he coughed up more water, what he hoped was the last of it.

Nakusa looked up from where he’d taken over from Isabela and stared at Invictus, then up at Anders. “Master?” he said quietly. A faint frown creased Anders’ brow but he didn’t stir.

Fenris shook his head at Nakusa as he swiped the flask. “Not master, his name is Anders. We will never call another master.” 

The elf pressed a gentle kiss to Anders forehead, and frowned with how cold he remained. “Why does he still shiver so?” 

“He is too thin,” replied Zevran quietly. “He took chill more easily, and he did not have the reserves of energy to spare for such exertion I think. Invictus is... a little more insulated, yes?” He smiled at the other mage to take any sting out of his words; he wasn’t sure exactly how Invictus might take them. “And also, he then healed Invictus to try and revive him.” Zevran tightened his arms around Anders, who didn’t respond.

“Make sure he eats more, he needs it. If you can get him up, maybe we four should keep each other warm. At least until he looks less blue.” Fenris frowned before he leaned in to kiss Anders gently on the lips. “Thank you for saving him.”

Zevran shrugged, as well as he was able with an armful of near-comatose hypothermic mage. “It is nothing,” he demurred. “Perhaps Nakusa should add his body warmth to yours to warm Invictus, whilst Isabela....” his voice tailed off as he studied Fenris’ face, uncertain how the elf would react to the suggestion. “I doubt you would wish her touching Invictus, _carissimi_ ,” he added, more quietly. “But I cannot warm him sufficiently myself.”

“I don’t want her touching any of you, but I want Anders to be healed. If that’s what it takes, so be it. I will not like it however.” Fenris frowned as he opened the flask to give Anders a warming sip before he offered any to Vic.

Invictus had rolled over to watch them, glad to still be alive more than he cared to be angry with anyone. Any feud that remained with Isabela was on hold until they got off the damned island.

Isabela rose to her feet and unconcernedly stripped off her tunic; the firelight bathed her tawny skin in a warm glow as she moved over towards Zevran and Anders. Zevran pulled open a fold of blanket and she snuggled in against Anders’ side, her back to Fenris and Invictus as Zevran pulled the blankets around all three of them. She rested her head on Zevran’s shoulder and murmured something to Zevran who smiled briefly

Invictus took the proffered sip of brandy with gratitude, his gaze fond as he watched Fenris drop the flask within reach of the others then return to him. He smiled as he tugged the elf to him, glad he was still alive to feel Fenris’ heartbeat under his palm, and the soft whisper of his breath against the crook of his neck.

“Sleep love, I will guard us.” Fenris said quietly as he did his best to wrap around Invictus; partially to warm him, partially to make sure he was really alright.

“As will I,” added Nakusa as he slipped under the covers on the other side of Invictus, adding his own body warmth to that of his brother. He seemed quite unselfconscious to be almost naked as he pressed against Invictus’ chilled skin; if the bodily contact caused him pain, he gave no sign of it.

Sleep did not come to Fenris, even as he felt Invictus go slack against him. He turned over to see that the others had gone to sleep even in the uncomfortable positions they’d gotten themselves into, the fire tamped down and the smell of stew was thick in the room. He knew he should eat but moving from the warmth and comfort of his lovers embrace kept him abed while his mind drifted.

Zevran’s head had dropped back to hang over the back of the chair; Fenris was certain the other elf would have a stiff neck come morning, but the Antivan seemed dead to the world, Anders’ head resting upon one shoulder, Isabela curled about them both with her head resting against his other shoulder. Anders had begun to snore softly, which Fenris took to be an encouraging sign.

As Fenris stirred, Nakusa opened his eyes and glanced up at him curiously.

“I can’t sleep, you should rest as should the others.” Fenris said quietly when he noticed his sibling’s gaze upon him. 

“You are restless,” replied Nakusa softly. “Is there anything I may do to ease your rest? You need sleep almost as much as they do. You are tense.”

“Not really, Vic’s near demise has unsettled me. I just wish to get home more than I ever have in my life. I want a strong drink, our bed, a hot meal and to sleep for a month. I want home.” Fenris replied softly in Tevene, his gaze flicked to Invictus then back to his brother. 

“I did not mean to wake you brother, you need rest even more than I do. Do you hurt at all? Sleeping next to a mage cannot be easy for you.”

“I am used to such discomfort,” replied Nakusa diffidently. He reached up a hand and pressed the inside of his wrist lightly against Invictus’ forehead. “He is warm again. Wait here.” He slipped from the bed and over to the fireplace where he ladled out a bowl of stew, then took up the flask of brandy and brought them both over to the bed. “Here. This is not your own bed and you are far from home, but here at least is hot food and I do not think the others will mind if you share a little of the brandy.”

“I don’t think I need the drink right now, I’m..on edge and barely held myself back earlier. Thank you for the stew.” Fenris sat upright and dug into the food as if it were the finest meal he’d had in years, he even licked the camp fork clean before he sat back and sighed. “Guess I needed that.”

“It has been a long night,” replied Nakusa quietly. “You had already stood watch before the sea wall fell and Anders awoke.” He glanced over to the window; though the thunder had subsided to distant rolls, rain still slashed at the windows, drumming a staccato rhythm against the eaves of the inn. Though the sun should have risen some time ago, it was still dark outside.

Fenris ran his hands through his hair and sighed. He knew he was going to crack soon, if not from the stress of being cooped up together, then from worry about his mages and sibling. Of them all Nakusa seemed to be fine, even better than he’d expected for someone recently freed from slavery, dragged across the island and thrust into the company of people he barely knew. “I feel so damn tired.” the elven fighter finally admitted.

“It is understandable,” answered Nakusa. “You have -”

He broke off as Anders stirred and then muttered something in his sleep. The scarred elf turned and glanced over his shoulder as Anders frowned and then shook his head. 

“No... no, that’s... that’s not just... I can’t, I, we....” His voice tailed off into a faint whimper.

Fenris jumped up and went over to his lover, hand out to gently shake the mage awake if needed. “Anders… you’re dreaming, wake up.” 

The elf’s sudden movement made Invictus sit up and grumble about the hour, and not being ready to get up.

“Rest,” soothed Nakusa as he pushed Invictus back down gently.

Anders frowned in his sleep. “Justice... got to find....” he sighed before going still once more. Zevran lifted his head slowly with a wince.

“Our healer is restless,” he murmured. 

“Come and lie down, at least unwedge yourselves from that chair.” Fenris replied as he gently cradled Anders face in his hands and whispered to him to wake up, that he dreamt of the past and to come back to them.

“What’s wrong with him?” Vic asked even as he was put on his back. “Too tired, you shouldn’t be able to push me around.”

“Can’t move,” Zevran said quietly as he glanced down at his lap full of sleeping Rivaini pirate and Anders, who was slowly opening his eyes and staring up at Fenris in confusion. “I think... I cannot feel my legs,” added the Antivan elf with a small frown.

“You had a lot of human sleeping on you.” Fenris murmured as he tried to move Anders up and into his arms. “Come on you need to move around, or at least let Zevran get up.”

Anders stumbled to his feet and Zevran gave a low groan of pain as feeling began to come back to his legs. He leaned forward and rubbed at his right leg, muttering curses to himself as Isabela stirred.

“Hmm? Zev, you should have nudged me,” she murmured sleepily as she stood and then crouched down to help him rub the life back into his legs.

“Still sleepy,” sighed Anders as he leaned on Fenris, his eyelids already drooping once more.

“Eat something first, it’s what you tell us all the time.” Fenris helped him to the floor gently.

“I’ll get him fed, I know you didn’t sleep much.” Vic said as he tried to get up. “Please let me up Nakusa, I want to help Anders.”

Nakusa kept one hand on Invictus’ chest, keeping him pinned with surprising strength. “I... cannot allow you to rise,” he said awkwardly, dropping his eyes subserviently though he did not move.

“Pinned down and I can’t even budge you.” Vic sighed as he turned to watch Fenris slip Anders a bowl full of stew, then rise to help Zevran up.

“Eat it, all of it.” Fenris admonished.

Anders stared down at the bowl of stew with a bemused expression, more than half still asleep, then obediently began to eat it slowly.

Zevran tried to rise then clutched at Fenris as his legs refused to work properly. Isabela gave him an apologetic look. “You really should have woken me, Zev,” she chided him softly.

“It... would have been ungentlemanly of me, no?” he replied awkwardly.

“Come, walk a little with me for fresh water. The pots are still in the other room?” Fenris asked as he put an arm around the other elf.

Vic relaxed under Nakusa’s touch, sure he wasn’t going anyway if the other elf wanted him to remain still. “I’ll remain here, it’s ok.”

“Water’s in the bathtub, next room,” said Anders between mouthfuls of stew. “It’s under the leak in the roof.”

Fenris grabbed a canteen as he went, easy to let Zevran regain the feeling in his legs. “Easy carissimi, a sudden cramp can feel like you’re dying.” 

“Can I sit up at least?” Vic asked, unsure if Nakusa would keep him down, or allow him to get into a sitting position.

Nakusa stared down at him doubtfully then lifted his hand and let the mage sit up. 

“I am sure I will be fine,” replied Zevran as they walked towards the other room then suddenly halted and clutched at the wall as he bit his lip. “I... fear you... were right, _mi Amatus_ ,” he gasped.

“Which leg?” Fenris asked as he knelt down, ready to massage whichever leg had tensed up. Zevran gestured to his right leg, panting as he tried to restrain a moan. He leaned against the wall and then slowly slid down it, his face pale beneath the dusky tan.

“This will hurt at first, scream if you must.” Fenris cautioned as he gently tugged at the other elf’s leg to straighten it. “It will be worse if you keep it bent.” he murmured before he started to work on the thick calf under his fingers. He tried to be gentle but it was difficult to keep Zevran still while he tried to get the hard knot of muscle to loosen.

Zevran bit his lip but withstood the pain silently as Fenris’ fingers found the cramped muscle and dug into it. “A Crow... does not scream,” he managed, and then grinned mirthlessly.

“Liar...unless you just mean when you get shagged?” Fenris said with a leer even as he felt the knot finally start to give way. “Guess I’ve lost my touch if you don’t actually scream, ser Crow.” 

Zevran merely continued to smile. “As part of the training of a Crow, one must withstand torture without making a sound,” he replied quietly. “It is not pain that can make me scream, _carissimi_. Ecstasy though... that is another matter. But I do not think you will ever hear me scream from mere pain.”

“Hmm, so you could be dying and we’d have no way to tell, I do not like that.” Fenris said as he slowed his fingers as he felt the other elf’s leg stop trying to tense up again. “Rub your calf, I will get the water.” 

“The times I have been closest to death have been the times I was most silent,” the Antivan shrugged. “If I stop talking or jesting however - ah, then you may worry, _carissimi_. I am much like your Anders in that, no?” He grinned up at Fenris.

The fighter shook his head in dismay as he hurried off to get water and return to his lover. “It worries me no matter how flip you are about it.” Fenris muttered as he helped Zevran up and back towards the room.

“I am sorry, _carissimi_ ,” murmured Zevran, leaning in to bestow a contrite kiss upon Fenris’ cheek. They paused in the doorway; Anders had finished his stew and was curled up in his blankets upon the hearthrug, Isabela sat nearby gently carding her fingers through his hair as he slept once more. Nakusa sat near Invictus, looking as though he would prefer to push Invictus to lie down again but not quite daring to make an issue of it further.

Isabela glanced up at Fenris’ indrawn hiss of breath. She held his eyes with her own for a moment as she deliberately ran her hand through Anders’ hair one last time then took a spare blanket from the chair and retreated to the other side of the fire.

“She tests what tiny shred of patience I have left.” Fenris snarled as he helped Zevran to lie down with Invictus. 

“Easy, my love,” murmured Zevran. “She is fond of Anders in her own way. They knew each other in Ferelden. She does not do it to bait you, I am sure.” He glanced over at the mage huddled on the rug. “We should not leave him there.”

Nakusa slipped from the bed and made his way over to crouch next to Anders and peer down at him. “He is sleeping,” he said quietly.

“I do not believe that, not one bit when she stared me down like that.” Fenris replied tersely. He sat down next to Zevran as he watched Anders doze. 

“I hope we can leave soon, being cooped up together isn’t making any of us easy to deal with.” Vic said from the corner he’d curled up against. “You also need sleep love, you’re brittle and that means you’re dangerous.”

Nakusa stretched himself out against Anders’ back and tugged another blanket over them both before pillowing his head upon his arm and closing his eyes.

Zevran sighed and lay down. “Maybe it will stop raining tomorrow,” he murmured.

 

***

The rain finally stopped two days later.

Fenris had slept poorly, more like a hard crash from exhaustion than restful slumber. He paced around as the others checked the lower levels to see if they could finally leave the damned inn. 

After sleeping for several hours then eating, Anders had recovered enough to strike upon the idea of casting lightning bolts into the floodwaters to kill off any more snakes that might be lurking there; the others refused to allow him to venture into the icy waters again in search of anything salvageable from the flood however. He had withdrawn into himself somewhat after that, sitting by the fire and tending it out of lack of anything better to do, speaking up only to interject whenever the sniping between the others (particularly Fenris and Isabela) seemed in danger of breaking out into actual violence.

Zevran had distracted Isabela as best as he could, but he too found the enforced wait in confined space telling upon his nerves. He had prowled the upper floors and down as far as the the waters lapping at the stairs, though he was as adamant as the others that Anders should not venture into the water again. 

Nakusa alone seemed almost unaffected, calmly taking it upon himself to take stock of their food supplies and tending the pot of stew that fed them each evening.

Fenris had taken up a spot at the landing as he watched the floor slowly reappear. “We need to go before we murder each other.”

Anders approached the landing, well aware of Zevran’s head snapping round as he passed. He paid no heed as the Antivan silently rose to his feet and paced after the apostate. Anders paused at the top of the stairs and stared down at the receding waters; they did appear to be lower than they had been the previous day. He took a step down then halted as Zevran’s hand tightened upon his arm. 

“It’ll be deeper in places out there,” said the Antivan elf quietly. “There will still be snakes and possibly worse. You cannot electrocute all of them, Anders. And I will not permit you to try swimming out there.”

“I’m open to suggestions,” replied Anders as he glanced at Fenris then back at the water. “You know full well I’m the strongest swimmer we’ve got, apart from Bela - and I’m taller than her.”

“The Void you are going to nearly die out there again. I won’t allow it.” Fenris snarled from behind them.

Anders’ hands clenched into fists at his sides but he bit back the retort that was upon the tip of his tongue. “Like I said, I’m open to suggestions,” he ground out, not turning.

“Well I will sink like a brick, Hawke is finally not a pale as death and you are recovered enough to cast without being laid low for a couple of hours. I’d rather just leave and test our luck outside this damn place. I can’t take it in here anymore.” Fenris replied frostily

“Then let me go down. Where’s the harm in letting me at least see how deep the water is just outside?” asked Anders. “Or do you want to risk it being over your head? Zevran’s?” He glanced back and stared pointedly at the shorter elf. “Or Nakusa’s?”

Fenris glared at the mage for a moment before he went back to the room that had become their resting spot. He let the door slam behind him as he went, uncaring for how it looked. He curled up in a corner, far away from everyone, shut his eyes and tried to calm himself.

“I’m going down,” said Anders. Zevran’s hand tightened again on his shoulder, and Anders glared at him.

“I would not advise-” began the elf, but Anders pulled away from him.

“What are you going to do?” Anders challenged him. “Drug me to sleep so I can’t go wandering off?” He lifted an eyebrow at Zevran, and the Antivan stepped back with an apologetic shrug.

“At least tie a rope around your waist so that we can pull you back if needed,” suggested the elf.

“He’s talking sense, sweet thing,” Isabela said as she stepped out of her room further along the hall. “Better yet, I’m coming with you. You’re right, we’re the strongest swimmers. between us we’ve a good chance of making it down to the harbour and finding a boat.”

“Not you too,” groaned Zevran. “What am I to tell the others? Anders, think of Hawke!”

“I _am_ thinking of Hawke and the others,” the apostate answered as he started down the stairs. “Why do you think I’m risking my bloody neck?”

“You are a fool,” Zevran shook his head and sighed. Isabela paused beside him.

“I’ll need a knife. Preferably two,” she said quietly. He drew his own daggers without a word and handed them to her, then watched as she followed Anders down into the flood waters.

Zevran sighed, and sat down on the top step. He was not looking forward to facing Fenris and Invictus.

Hawke had heard Fenris come in but didn’t dare bother the elf. He’d seen him like that before and asking him how to help only made it worse. Instead he went out and joined Zevran. “I hope they are going to find a boat, or at least food.” he said quietly.

“A boat, I think,” replied Zevran uneasily. “Much though I mislike it, Anders’ reasoning is sound; he and Isabela have the best chance out there. Fenris would drown, Nakusa cannot swim, and I... I do not think I would fare too well either.” He shrugged. 

“What set Fenris off? I dare not try when he’s so on edge. I kind of want to live long enough to get home.” Vic asked as he watched Anders and Isabela get the door open and head out of the inn. If not for the memory of nearly being drowned, he would have run off after them. 

Zevran watched, holding his breath as they wrestled the door open against the swirling currents and then Anders had to swiftly grab at Isabela as the stronger currents outside nearly dragged her along. After a moment, the Rivaini woman slid the daggers through her belt then slung an arm across Anders’ shoulders, and then he threw himself forward into the floodwaters and struck out. They were gone from view in moments. He half-rose from the stair and made to move forward then checked himself.

“I... I do not know; he seemed angry Anders even wished to make the attempt,” he finally answered belatedly.

“I think he’s seen us both come too close to our ends to be comfortable with anything that might hasten that happening. We’ve been cooped up in that small room for far too long. Honestly, I’m more surprised Anders hasn’t snapped at us first. Something is incredibly wrong when I am among the calmest heads in the room.” Vic sighed and leaned back on his elbows.

“How long until you think they will get back? Or better yet, how long until one of us can approach Fenris without losing a hand?”

Zevran shrugged fatalistically. “How long is a piece of string?” he asked as he took a step down towards the flood waters, then another. “I do not know. It depends on what they find out there.” He took a further step down then halted.

“We need to get out of here soon, we’re at each others throats almost as much as when we first escaped the Qunari. I’ll go keep Nakusa company, and risk our prickly love’s wrath to make sure he eats something today.” Vic dusted himself off as he rose, but spared a squeeze to the rogue’s shoulder before he headed back into the room.

Zevran waited until Invictus had gone, then sighed softly. He inched down until he stood on the last dry step above the water, and stared down at the the dark water for long moments. Part of him felt he should follow after Anders and Isabela. He knew he should go back up, even though that would mean facing Fenris.

He sat on the step and stared at the swirling water, waiting.

***

Anders tightened his grasp on Isabela as he clung to the broken rail. “Any time now would be good!” he yelled above the roar of the surf.

The Rivaini woman didn’t answer as she busied herself with the knife. Anders could only cling on tightly as she hacked at the fishing line that had somehow became snared around his right leg, dragging him down. He could feel his grip slipping on the rail, and he wasn’t sure how much longer it would bear their weight.

“Bela!” he cried warningly as the rail gave an alarming creak, but at that moment he felt the last strands of fishing twine snap and suddenly his leg was free. Isabela put the knife between her teeth then kicked up and caught the edge of the wall that barely jutted out of the water besides the remains of what might once have been a fence. swinging herself up before reaching down for Anders’ hand. He kicked his legs then scrabbled his feet against broken stone and bricks as she helped him scramble out of the water onto the precarious perch of the wall.

“This is madness,” he said when he finally caught his breath. “Between that crocodile back there, the snakes and the underwater hazards...!”

“Cheer up, it could be worse!” grinned Isabela. “At least we’ve seen no sign of the Qunari.”

“Small mercies,” groaned Anders. He pushed wet hair out of his eyes and stared around, shivering as the cold breeze knifed through his sodden shirt. “Do you see any boats anywhere?”

“Nothing floating,” admitted Isabela. “The harbour was this way though.” She pointed in the direction of a mound of what once might have been wooden fishermen’s huts but now was only so much detritus and matchwood.

Anders groaned. “We’re not going to find anything, are we?” he said quietly. She glanced back at him.

“Giving up already?” she taunted.

“Let’s be realistic, Bela,” he sighed. “We’re lucky the inn wasn’t swept away in that flood. Do you honestly think we’re going to find anything out here?”

“We won’t with that attitude, sweet thing,” replied Bela. “Come on.”

Anders sighed and lowered his head. “I’m tired, Bela,” he said softly. 

She turned back and stared down at him for a moment, then dropped into a crouch next to him. “That’s not the voice of the man who escaped the Tower at Kinloch Hold seven times,” she said steadily, holding him with her amber gaze. “Nor the voice of the Anders I know. You can do this. We’re going to find a boat, we’re going to get out of this gods-forsaken cesspit and find a ship, and we are going to go back to Kirkwall where you are going to fuck the brains out of that stuck-up elf of yours until he loses the fucking stick up his arse - and that idiot Hawke, though Maker only knows what you see in the misbegotten son of a bitch,” she added, her voice turning bitter for a moment. “You’re not going to give up, you hear me? We’re going to find a boat and prove those idiots wrong.”

Anders stared at her; it was a few minutes before he found his voice. “Wait - does that mean... you’re not going to kill Hawke?” he asked, grasping at hope.

“I haven’t decided,” she said stiffly as she pulled away from him. “But if I do, it’s not going to be out here. I want it to be on dry land, on home turf - or what passes for it, as much as anything ever has. And I want it to be after I see Varric.”

“Why Varric?” asked Anders, bewildered.

“Because I want the truth, and I don’t trust it to come from Hawke’s lips - or Fenris’. Or, I’m sad to say sweet thing, yours either.”

“You seriously expect Varric to actually tell the truth about anything?” said Anders slowly.

She smiled sadly. “No. I don’t. But I’ll know the truth from how he lies to me.”

“I... don’t understand,” said Anders slowly. She grinned.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, Kitten,” she said as she leaned down and kissed him hard. Then she turned and jumped down into the floodwaters and struck out once more. “Last one to the harbour’s a nug’s uncle!” she called back.

Anders sighed then slipped back into the water and swam after her.

To his surprise, they actually found a couple of boats intact in the smashed remains of a boathouse near the docks. The larger of the two had a shallow draught but a solid keel that counterbalanced the pair of triangular sails and the single mast. It was small for a fishing boat but looked to be roomy enough for their small group, and whilst the raised awning at one end was scarcely worthy of being called a cabin it would, at least, provide some shelter.

With some effort they managed to break a path through the wreckage to be able to launch the small pinnace, and then between them they got the sails unfurled. Isabela took the tiller whilst Anders took up the long boat hook and stood by the bow, ready to fend away floating detritus from their path.

It took some time to work their way back through the flooded village, and the sun was setting as Isabela finally steered the pinnace next to what remained of the outer porch around the inn.

“Hello, the inn!” she called, until she heard an answering call from Zevran inside.

“All aboard who’s coming aboard!”


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally get out of the inn, but is it better or worse than being cooped up together?

Zevran took the stairs back up to the upper floor two at a time and burst into the small room. “They did it. I do not know how, but somehow they have found us a sailing vessel. It seems Isabela is a captain once more.” He grinned, then disappeared next door to grab his satchel.

Fenris gathered his things but didn’t speak, he was still deep in his pit of anger. He helped Nakusa gather what little his sibling had with him and headed for the stairs. 

Invictus sighed as he picked up the rest of their things and followed behind the others. 

Thankfully the water had receded enough for them to make their way to the ship, until Hawke and Fenris noticed that Isabela was once more armed, and even more dangerous. 

Zevran brought up the rear, carrying what few things Isabela had claimed as her own as Nakusa carried Anders’ pack and staff. Nakusa nearly walked into Invictus as the mage and his brother came to a halt.

Anders paused in the act of reaching a hand out towards Fenris as he noticed his lover’s expression change. He glanced back at Isabela, then back at Fenris.

“Fenris. She’s not going to harm Invictus - not here, not like this. She gave me her word. I swear, on my life, you can trust her. Please. We need to get out of here.” He kept his voice low, striving to sound as calm as possible even as his heart raced.

The elven fighter snarled as he took Anders hand. “I no longer trust her, and I’m saddened that you fell for her act as well. His death will be on your head.” Fenris hissed before he turned to help Nakusa up, then Invictus as he made sure to stay between his lover and Isabela.

Anders looked stricken, his face pale, as he reached his hand to help Zevran into the boat. “You do not look well, my friend,” murmured Zevran as he leaned in close to the blond apostate. “Go, sit under the awning. I shall take your place here - and keep an eye out, yes? Go, you are wet and chilled. Nakusa has your pack with dry clothing.”

Anders stared at Fenris then managed to tear his eyes away to nod jerkily before making his way carefully aft. He took his pack from Nakusa and retreated to the shelter as Isabela swung the tiller and the small vessel edged out into the flooded street once more.

Fenris kept one hand on Invictus as they sailed on, his gaze on Isabela even as he fought sleep. He was the worst rested of them, but he couldn’t rest easily until they were home. 

Vic pulled him back to his chest, a tired sigh escaped him as he felt Fenris jerk half out of his arms. “Sleep, I’ve got you.”

Nakusa had brought the stewpot with what was left of the stew; as Isabela steered the pinnace carefully through the remains of the streets of the nameless village and Zevran fended away floating wreckage, the elf served the still-warm broth into bowls and handed one to each of them. Isabela waved him away.

“Wouldn’t be the first meal I’ve eaten cold, Kitten; I doubt it’ll be the last,” she smiled at him as she switched her attention back to steering the vessel. Nakusa glanced down at the bowl of stew then tipped it back into the pot before stowing it back under the awning, wrapping the pot in a blanket to try and keep the leftovers warm for as long as possible.

Anders ate his portion without appetite, forcing himself to eat. There was no telling how long it might be until their next hot meal, and Zevran had been right - even with dry clothes, he was still chilled. As he hunkered down with his pack for a pillow after he’d finished, he coughed drily, then grimaced. The last thing he needed was to go down with a cold.

Fenris dozed fitfully, Invictus tried to remember where he’d left the will he’d had drawn up as they sailed on. He couldn’t look at Isabela, or Anders. He wasn’t sure what Fenris had said to the other mage but he looked defeated.

Zevran looked back from his place at the prow as the sound of Anders coughing fitfully drifted towards him. He frowned, but turned back to fend off what looked like the remains of a smashed fishing boat - not much more than the half-submerged remains of a crushed hull and a wreckage of spars, rigging and sailcloth.

Nakusa knew something was amiss but he had no way to comfort his sibling or get to Anders without squeezing past both Hawke and Fenris. So he leaned against Hawke and tried to rest as well.

Invictus held Fenris close in case the elf moved about in his sleep, the last thing they needed was to end up ass over teakettle in the cold water. The pinnace was closer to a small ship as far as he was concerned - certainly it was no flimsy rowboat. Still, he was mistrustful enough of boats by now that he was disinclined to move much, particularly as the water became choppier as Isabela steered them out into the open waters of the harbour and away from the village.

Isabela remained at her post above and behind the awning, leaning easily on the tiller as she guided the pinnace through the waves, keeping a careful distance out from the shore in case of rocks below the surface. With its shallow draught the pinnace could stand closer in to shore than most sailing vessels, but she was taking no chances.

Fenris woke up to darkness and the swaying of their travel. What he didn’t need was to feel what little he’d eaten try to come up. He hung over the side just in time to lose his lunch, thankfully held by his lover, lest he fall into the churning waters.

Vic didn’t feel much better, but he’d been awake long enough to be accustomed to their speed. He pulled Fenris back in, handed him a canteen and a sprig of mint that he’d had secreted away. “Easy love, we’re going at a good clip so move slow and easy.”

The wind caught the sails as Isabela changed tack, heading further out to sea, and the canvas belled out taut with a dull snap that almost drowned out Anders’ racking cough as he shifted slightly then pulled his blanket up over his head.

“When we make land, someone needs to tend him, the last thing any of us, but especially Anders needs is to take ill.” Vic said as he cradled Fenris to him, not liking how chilled the elf was from the night air.

Now they were out in open water, there was no longer any need for Zevran to crouch by the prow; he straightened and stretched to get the kinks out of his back and shoulders from so long spent hunching over the water looking out for floating detritus, then made his way carefully aft. He snatched up Fenris’ blanket then draped it carefully around the shivering elf before continuing to the rear of the pinnace. He dropped down beside Nakusa and Anders to gently touch Anders’ forehead with one hand. He frowned; Anders’ forehead was hot, his hair drenched with sweat. He pulled out his water canteen and dampened a handkerchief then carefully laid it across the sleeping mage’s brow before tucking the blanket carefully around the unconscious man’s body.

Vic frowned as he watched Zevran tend to the other mage. “How bad is it?” he asked once the rogue was back by him

Zevran shrugged. “It is hard to say. He is burning hot to the touch, but sleeping. I think the less time he spends in this boat and the sooner we can get him into a proper bed the better, but I will do what I can for him until then. He is a Grey Warden however; they take ill rarely. It may only be a passing chill.”

“Alright, hopefully we will make land sooner than later. Fenris isn’t doing well either.” Vic brushed a few strands of white hair off the elf’s forehead with a morose sigh. “Do you know what he said to Anders?”

Zevran glanced down to Fenris; he was fairly certain the other elf would not appreciate them talking over his head as though he were not there - even preoccupied with his rebellious stomach as he was at present. “He did not tell you?” he asked softly.

“No, I think he is sleeping again, or just very quiet. I am worried for them both.” Vic admitted as he shifted to get comfortable with Fenris in his arms.

Zevran crouched and reached down to brush at something on his boot; keeping his voice to a barely breathed whisper that would carry only to Fenris’ ears, he murmured, “Forgive me, _carissimi_.” He straightened then sighed. 

“It seems that Isabela promised Anders she would not harm you - not here, at least - and Anders swore upon his own life that you would both be safe. Fenris was... harsh with him, and said that should you die, your death will be on Anders’ head. I do not think Anders expected his anger to be quite so... how can I say it? Vitriolic and cutting.” He spread his hands and shrugged. 

“Maker’s breath…” Vic glanced at Isabela, then back to his lovers with a put upon sigh. “We need to get home, and soon. I think we’re all a hair away from violence at this point.” 

“Mmm not, stop talking about me like that.” Fenris muttered as he turned further into Vic’s embrace.

Zevran stared at the other elf then ran a hand slowly over his face with a voiceless sigh and shook his head. “Anders is in no fit state to venture violence upon anyone, and in even less state to be on the receiving end. Nakusa... “ He shrugged again. “Nakusa seems himself and perhaps the calmest of any of us. Isabela has given her word, and I... I am weary. We should all sleep, as far as such a thing is possible.”

“Agreed. if you need me to check on Anders just let me know. Kind of stuck with Fenris like this at the moment.” Vic got as comfortable as he could with Fenris curled against him and Nakusa behind him and let his eyes drift shut.

Zevran nodded and made his way back towards Anders. He took one of the spare blankets and stretched himself out next to the sleeping apostate, setting his satchel behind himself for a pillow as he closed his eyes. Silence settled over the small vessel, punctuated only by the soft slap of waves against the hull, the sound of the canvas in the wind, and occasionally by Anders’ fitful coughing.

Morning found them gliding along before a brisk wind, the coast of Seheron a low grey smudge off the starboard bow. 

Fenris opened his eyes and groaned at how nauseous he felt. He’d barely eaten the day before but he still felt like he could void what little was left in him. He rolled over to let Vic up but didn’t dare to stand. He glanced back to see Nakusa was still curled under a blanket, sound asleep.

Invictus hissed as the feeling came back to his legs and he cautiously stood up. He glanced over to where Anders was still out of it with Zevran curled against him. That left him alone with Isabela for the first time since their ill gotten adventure had begun.

Isabela still stood on the small rear deck behind the awning, one hand on the tiller as she stared up at the sails. She seemed not to have moved since the previous evening; one with her small ship, guiding them tirelessly through the night as they slept.

Or not so tirelessly perhaps; as Invictus watched, she swayed slightly then shook her head with a frown.

“If you’ll guide me, I can row for a while.” Invictus offered carefully as he watched for any sudden movements from her.

She glanced at him briefly before shifting her attention back to the boat. “Steering, not rowing,” she said tersely. “You ever steer a sailing vessel before, Hawke?”

“Long time ago, but yeah.” Vic tried to relax as he watched her like his namesake. Sure that if they got in a scuffle the whole thing would go under. He didn’t want to go out like that but he wasn’t going to let her walk all over him either.

She glanced up at the sky, then at the grey smudge of cloud on the horizon before glancing back at him. She appeared to consider it for a moment then nodded once. “Watch your step as you climb up,” she warned him. “The wood is slippery.” She frowned again as the faint muffled sound of Anders coughing drifted up from the rear of the shelter before tailing off into wheezing then silence once more.

Vic settled where she’d been since they took off, got as comfortable as he could and let her direct him. “Any idea which direction? Or just see where this takes us?” he asked quietly.

“Not so stiff,” she said quietly. “Don’t lock your knees. You’ll be aching in no time like that. Keep her straight for now; we’ll take her in closer to shore around midday, see if there’s any sign of Qunari activity on the shoreline. If it’s clear, we’ll find somewhere to put in ashore and refill our water canteens.” As she spoke she pulled out a square of silk that looked familiar and squinted at it then glanced up to judge the angle of the sun. Up close, Invictus could see how exhausted she was, and he couldn’t help but wonder just what reserves she was running dry after sailing all night with no sleep. She’d been a half-starved Qunari prisoner only a few days previously and the few decent meals he’d had since then couldn’t have been enough to restore her health and strength.

“As you say, Captain” Vic replied as he steered the vessel on in the direction they were going, his hand only raising to shield his eyes from the bright sun. He was glad for something to do, it kept his mind focused rather than wandering to all the bad things that could happen once they found land, or if they didn’t get something into Anders to help with his cough.

Isabela paused, and then a slow, genuine smile spread across her face. “Captain. Yes. I’m a captain again. You have no idea how good it feels to hear that.”

“I don’t but I’ll repeat it often as you wish.” Vic replied as he focused on keeping them on the path towards shore, and not on the others in the boat.

Fenris turned over to see Vic at the helm and he stared in shock. Isabela was sat on the edge of the steering platform, her bare feet dangling over the side of the boat as she talked quietly to Invictus; though Fenris couldn’t hear their voices, he could see Invictus say something in reply - and Isabela appeared to be smiling with something approaching genuine warmth.

“I’m in the Fade, I died and I’m in the Fade, this is not real,” he said still in mild shock over seeing them like that.

Zevran rolled over and blinked at him drowsily. “You can’t be in the Fade,” he muttered sleepily. “I’m sure the Fade does not stink so much of seawater and fish.”

“If it’s my version of the Fade, it would reek as much as reality.” Fenris answered. He got to his knees so he could nudge Nakusa awake for at least some rations and water. 

“I am sure my version would have less fish and more blood,” muttered Zevran as he sat up. He stilled as Anders stirred briefly to cough, his body shuddering as he wheezed between each spasm before going still with a faint, breathless moan.

Up on the rear deck, Isabela cocked her head to one side, listening as Anders coughed and then fell quiet. “Doesn’t sound good,” she said quietly as she rubbed her eyes tiredly.

“Is there anything in his pack that might help?” Nakusa asked Fenris as he stopped to listen to the mage.

“I am no healer, I only know the basic healing herbs and can bandage, stitch someone up brother. If we land and I can look around, I might find herbs I know, or not.” Fenris replied softly

“A healing potion will have to suffice for now,” said Zevran softly as he reached for his own satchel. “There are herbs in his pack but without the means of boiling water, I cannot brew a tea to ease his cough.” He sighed. “My own skills are paltry compared to his, alas.”

“Get him a potion would you?” Fenris asked as he pulled himself up into a sitting position. “How much longer until land?” he groaned.

Isabela closed her eyes briefly then shook her head slightly with a small frown before looking up at the sails then over towards the shore. “Bring us about, Hawke,” she said quietly. “Swing her a little towards the shore... that’s it. Now straighten... let the tiller come back to the centre. Easy does it. Good. Now hold her there.”

Zevran paused as he pulled a healing potion out of his satchel and glanced up at the main sail as it belled taut again. “Sooner than you might think, _carissimi_ ,” he mused.

“Not soon enough.” Fenris replied as he held onto his seat in an effort to remain on board. 

Vic held the ship stead, his gaze locked to the land he could see as they went, a small, relieved grin on his face as he steered her closer to shore.

As they drew closer, they could hear the surf pounding against the rocks. “Hawke, I’m going to have to take the tiller from here,” Isabela sighed. “A Rejuvenate wouldn’t go amiss - I’d hate to fetch us up on the rocks right now.” There was no teasing or spite in her voice, only a bone-deep weariness as she carefully got to her feet and reached for the tiller once more.

Vic did as she requested, his mana full since he’d managed to get a few hours rest. “I’ll check on Anders.” 

He cast a bit of Rejuvenate and heal on his fellow mage in the hopes it helped him be well enough to get off the boat and to shore in a bit.

“Love, need a boost?” he asked Fenris.

Zevran had got to his feet and stepped aside to allow Invictus room to work; he glanced back at Fenris, then climbed carefully up to stand next to Isabela, keeping his balance with ease as the boat pitched and rolled in the waves this close to shore.

“I don’t need help for this, Zev,” she said, her voice distracted as she steered the small vessel closer to shore, looking for some promising cove they could shelter in.

“Ah, but you will after, no?” he said quietly as he stepped closer and slipped an arm lightly around her waist, bracing her as the ship lurched in a cross-current.

Anders’ eyes were slowly flickering open; he glanced around, confused and dazed. “Where are we?” he whispered hoarsely.

“Almost to land, and hopefully some place we can rest and get you better.” Fenris whispered as he let Invictus work his magic over him.

Anders tried to sit up; it took him several tries. He leaned against the bulwark of the boat to try and catch his breath. “What’s... wrong with me?” he managed.

“You’ve taken ill Mas..Anders.” Nakusa said as he knelt next to the mage. He’d slipped past the others to help him once he saw how badly the blond had struggled to get upright.

“Not... not possible,” Anders rasped. “Grey Wardens don’t get ill.” He tried to stand and failed.

“Someone’s a cranky patient,” Isabela mused quietly to herself.

“He always was,” answered Zevran in an equally-quiet tone.

“Shouldn’t be sick, he told us wardens are always healthy.” Fenris muttered as he held on to the seat, eyes closed and his face drawn into a frown. “Hate boats, hate them so much.” he grumbled.

“You are not well, M- Anders,” Nakusa managed to catch himself. Anders made a faint sound of annoyance that trailed into another coughing fit as he fell back against the blankets, clutching his chest as he fought for breath between each paroxysm until he lay exhausted. 

“Not... not possible,” he wheezed quietly to himself, but with less certainty.

“Hold on,” called Isabela from above and behind them. “It’s going to be a little rough heading into this cove.” She swung the tiller hard and for a moment it seemed she would drive the small boat up onto the very rocks themselves, but at the last minute she threw the tiller hard a-port and leaned her weight upon it and the pinnace slid smoothly into the cove, the waters suddenly quiet and peaceful, the waves no longer white-capped but simple swells that rolled slowly onto a small, white beach in a secluded bay.

Zevran caught Isabela as she swayed and would have fallen, exhausted by her efforts to wrestle the boat into the cove through such rough waters after no sleep in far too long.

“Hawke, a hand here?” he called.

Invictus arched an eyebrow, surprised that Zevran would ask for help but he scooped her up in his arms so she wouldn’t fall crack her head open if she fell off the boat.

“I’ll get her settled, you help them offload.

Zevran nodded and climbed down into the boat to help the others gather their gear. The boat was so shallow that Isabela had managed almost to beach it upon the white sands; as Zevran and Nakusa hopped over the side to wade to shore they found the water was shallow, barely reaching to mid-thigh on the shorter Antivan elf. They stowed the packs up above the tideline then returned to the boat - first to help Fenris out, then giving Invictus a hand as he climbed out with the exhausted Rivaini pirate, and finally to carry Anders off the boat between them before the two elves dropped down onto the soft sand next to their companions.

“There,” slurred Isabela with a small smile. “Got you out the damn village.” She closed her eyes.

Nakusa rolled over to cling to Anders and rest while they could. 

Fenris flopped to his back and groaned pitifully. “No more sailing.”

Vic busied himself setting up a camp along with Zevran, glad to have something to occupy his time and hands.

Anders opened his eyes, glancing down at Nakusa in faint confusion before glancing over at Fenris. “Are we off Seheron?” He winced, hating how weak his voice sounded.

“No… because there is no Maker.” the elf replied tiredly.

Anders groaned faintly. “I wish...” he murmured, and then his voice trailed off and he closed his eyes. He wanted to go home. They all did. Saying the words aloud wouldn’t change how many hundreds of miles they had yet to go.

Zevran returned from a brief scout inland with a pan full of water. “Fresh spring, clean, drinkable water, about two minutes’ walk in that direction,” he murmured to Invictus as he set the pan down then set to work to build a fire so he could boil the water for tea.

“I’ll get the canteens filled once I’ve had something hot to drink. Unless you want to go back and I’ll guard camp?” Vic asked.

Zevran shrugged then fished pouches of herbs out of Anders’ pack. He added a pinch of herbs from one pouch to a mug then a few leaves of something dried from another. he sniffed the contents of a third pouch then added a generous pinch to the mug.

“Half fill this with water when the pan boils; I shall return shortly,” he said as he handed the mug to Invictus then rose to his feet. He gathered up the canteens then departed in the direction of the spring.

Vic nodded, and once the tea was ready he slipped an arm under Anders to get him in position. “Wake up love, Zevran made some tea for you. It should help that nasty cough.” 

Fenris had shuffled off to find a bush, and returned to find Anders in Invictus’ arms, Nakusa rolled to his other side, sound asleep. Anders was sipping slowly from a steaming mug; as Fenris emerged from the bushes the mage paused and glanced up at Fenris and tried to smile reassuringly. 

“It’s probably nothing,” he said weakly. “I’ll be well soon.”

“You’ve caught something from this cold and wet, it’s not nothing. Drink the tea, and now that I’m awake, I’ll scout for food once Zevran returns.” Fenris tended the fire sullenly, his mood still low as he stared into the flames.

Anders obediently drank the tea, then lay back with his head resting on Invictus’ shoulder as he caught his breath. He frowned a little, racking his brains for all he knew of Grey Wardens and what he’d read in the library at the Keep of medical matters in their annals. There had been much about battle injuries, wounds, gangrene and the like and plenty about the Blight; but of other illnesses that might affect a Grey Warden he could remember nothing.

He closed his eyes and tried to feel with his innate healer’s senses, but he was tired and feverish and it was hard to concentrate beyond the feeling of trying to swallow broken glass in his throat, the ache in his chest, the dull throbbing in his head and limbs. He tried to think about the problem dispassionately, as though he were considering a patient and not his own body, but the physical sensations and symptoms were too distracting.

He knew it was impossible he could simply have caught some mundane cold just from being cold and wet. There must have been something in the flood waters; some waterborne pathogen that had infected him at some point - possibly as he was wrestling with the snake that had tried to claim Invictus.

He couldn’t concentrate.It was easier to close his eyes and rest, and presently his thoughts were wandering once more amongst fever dreams.

“Anders, you can’t just float off on me. You need to eat something, come on back to us love.” Vic asked as he tried to get the mage to sit up at least.

Anders opened his eyes reluctantly. “Feed a cold, starve a fever,” he murmured. “Or was that the other way round? I forget....” He stared into space. “Lady. Where’s Lady?” he asked faintly.

“Lady is at home, waiting on you love. Soon we’ll get back and you can sleep as long as you like with her snuggled up next to you.” Vic said in a slight panic as he glanced at Fenris.

“He’s delirious, let him sleep Vic else he won’t recover. He won’t make much sense either right now.” Fenris carded his fingers through the mage’s damp hair with a moue of distaste. “Once he’s well enough he should bathe, his hair will mat, and the longer he goes without a wash, the harder it will be to get well.”

“Home?” said Anders softly. “Oh....” He closed his eyes at the touch of Fenris’ fingers in his hair and then faintly smiled. “Feels... nice.... Karl....”

“Definitely delirious” the elf muttered as he continued to card through Anders hair though he wanted nothing more than to wash it clean. “Sleep love, you’ve had a hard day. I’ll wake you for dinner.” Fenris said softly.

Anders hummed faintly to himself then fell silent as he drifted off into a restless sleep.

Once the mage was asleep, Fenris pulled back and sat with Invictus. “I worry for him, if he will survive the trip home. I was ...harsh earlier.” he admitted.

Zevran returned, laden with heavily full canteens; he lowered them to the sandy ground next to their packs before briefly checking on Isabela, who was passed out on a bedroll nearby. He satisfied himself she was merely deeply asleep before approaching the others, dropping down to the sand as he folded his legs and glanced at Anders.

“He drank all the tea? Good, good,” the elf nodded. “I am afraid there is not much else I can do but it should at least ease his cough enough for him to sleep.” He sighed. “Fenris, my love, I do not think your earlier words matter to him just now as much as they do to you, hmm?” He smiled sympathetically. “You cannot take them back, but he cannot recall them in his present state. Do not punish yourself over them now. It will do neither you nor he any good.”

“Still, I should not have been so sharp with him. He did nothing to deserve my ire.” Fenris sighed as he unfolded himself to get his weapons. “I’m going to see what I can hunt down around here.” 

“Would you like company, _carissimi_ , or would you prefer to hunt alone?” asked Zevran gently.

“Alone, besides someone besides Vic should remain in case trouble finds us. He’s capable but he’s just one man.” Fenris replied as he glanced around the camp, then back to Zevran. “If we can find time alone later, I will try to speak on why I am so...rattled.”

Zevran inclined his head in assent. “As you wish, _carissimi_. I shall remain here and help Hawke keep watch.” He reached down and plucked a knife from his boot, inspecting the blade carefully before pulling a whetstone from a pouch and setting to work honing the edge.

“Thanks, _mi cariad_ ” Fenris whispered before he set off in search of small prey. Luck was with him as he found plump birds, with greenish-grey feathers that seemed to be land bound despite their plumage. He returned with four of them tied over stick and a makeshift sack of more breadfruits he’d stumbled over.

“We’ll eat fresh meat for a change. Nakusa, can you help me pluck them?” he asked as he dropped next to his sibling.

Nakusa sat up and reached for the nearest bird, setting to work to pluck the downy plumage. “Do you wish to save these feathers for Anders too?” he asked, holding up a handful of green-grey fluff. Zevran added more sticks to the fire and stirred it up before going in search of some smooth flat rocks to set around the edge of the fire.

“Sure, he can decide later if he wants them. If nothing else, we can stuff a bag and make a half-way decent pillow for someone.” Fenris replied as he plucked one of the other birds.

Nakusa nodded and set the handful of feathers down carefully on the edge of the blanket nearby then set to work plucking his bird as Zevran returned with several thin, flat rocks that had been scoured smooth by the wind and sand. He placed them around the fire then took one of the breadfruit and split it open, scraping out the white flesh inside. He set to work pounding the raw breadfruit flesh in a bowl, adding a sprinkling of spices and then unwrapping a piece of honeycomb from his satchel. He squeezed all the remaining honey into the mixture in his bowl then worked it into a smooth dough before forming round flat cakes with it that he set to bake on the flat stones around the fire.

Nakusa darted him several glances as the other elf worked, obviously curious but saying nothing as his fingers flew, plucking the bird deftly.

Fenris remained quiet as they worked, his mind ill at ease as he glanced over to Anders occasionally.

Invictus had wandered over to help clean and spit the birds so the others could wash off after preparing the birds. He watched them carefully, eager for a hot meal but unwilling to let them burn.

Zevran had washed his hands in the sea and returned to finish oiling and sharpening his blades. Though he left his paired fighting daggers with Isabela, it seemed the former Crow had no lack of other weapons about his person, all of which required some attention after the repeated soakings they’d all experienced recently. His gaze strayed often to the sleeping blond mage who tossed restlessly in his slumbers, but just as often it wandered to the white-haired warrior.

Fenris rummaged in his pack for his own kit to take care of his poor blade. Between hunting, fighting without rest and hacking furniture for firewood it had taken a lot of abuse. He settled across from Zevran, hands in an old rhythm that helped settle his mind as he worked.

Zevran set aside his blades as he noticed Anders growing more restless, and set another mug of tea brewing. When Anders began to fitfully cough in his sleep once more, he took up the mug and circled around the fire to gently lift Anders up to rest against him as he held the mug to Anders’ lips. The blond apostate sipped slowly at the hot liquid without opening his eyes, and passed back into a deeper sleep after only a few mouthfuls. What little he’d managed to drink seemed to sooth the cough however. Zevran pulled over his own satchel and wadded up one of the spare blankets so as to settle Anders in a more upright position, which seemed to help ease the unconscious mage’s breathing.

“Invictus,” said Zevran quietly as he studied Anders’ sleeping face. “I think we should discuss with Isabela the feasibility of making the run from here straight across to Tevinter in our boat when she awakens. I mislike his chances should we have to travel much further with him.”

“Anything to get us home faster but...what about you and Fenris? I don’t want to endanger him again.” Vic replied. 

“If we make straight across towards the Eyes of Necen, with a fair wind we might make the crossing in perhaps a day. I doubt our small vessel would cope with a longer journey, and that means the Tevinter coast, alas - though from the Eyes it would not be far to the Arlathan Forest - but it would be best to skirt the forest itself, I think.” Zevran lowered his chin to his fist. “In truth, all ways seem equally ill. Anders’ best chance of recovery would require us to make for the nearest civilised city, but that would require returning to our previous deception - which I am loath to do, and doubtless Fenris far more so - and I would not wish to subject Nakusa to that either, so soon after gaining his freedom.” He exhaled slowly through his nose. “It is too far to the High Reaches and the Anderfels; even if our small vessel could make such a journey, we would have to cross major shipping lanes of the Empire and risk being captured anyway. And it is too far the other way, to Rivain, and the season’s storms will be against us.”

He shook his head. “For Anders’ sake we should make for Tevinter; for our sakes we should not. I... do not know what to suggest.” He lowered his head.

Fenris had crept up behind them, his expression blank, his slave face as Vic and Anders called it. “No, I will hand fucking feed him, carry him, anything but not that. Unless you want me to have a total breakdown before we get back to Kirkwall.”

Zevran drew a long, slow breath and closed his eyes. “No, _mi Amatus_ ,” he breathed. “But I can think only of one other possible plan, and I fear you will like it even less.”

“I know of what plan you speak. I’d rather slit my own throat upon the sand than set foot in Tevinter again. I will not revisit that ...personal Void. You cannot ask me or Nakusa , you cannot if you care for me at all.” Fenris rasped, his voice nearly broke as he pleaded with the other elf.

Invictus rose to his feet to be stopped by a shake of Fenris’ head. “Love...that’s…”

“No,” rasped Zevran hoarsely. “There is... another way.” He closed eyes tightly. 

“I know where to find Solona.”

What little control Fenris had snapped like a taut string as he hauled the other elf to his feet and shook him. “She fucking enthralled him, she used blood magic and you actually would suggest we give him back to her?” Fenris screeched.

Zevran turned his face away a little, his eyes still closed, making no attempt to defend himself. “I said... you would not like it,” he whispered.

“No, that’s worse than I will not like it. That’s far, far worse.” Fenris growled as he dropped Zevran at his feet. “Give him back to the one that enthralled him? Are you out of your fucking mind Arainai?” 

Invictus remained still, sure a sudden movement would get him a punch in the face or worse,a clawed hand around his heart. “Love...we’re not going to do that. It was just an option. One that is open so we don’t lose Anders to whatever sickness has him laid low. Please, calm down before you wake him up or attract attention of whatever animals might be wandering around here.”

“Shut up Hawke, shut the fuck up.” Fenris snapped as he stalked in a circle, brands lit up like a feast day decoration.

Zevran had lain still sprawled upon the sand at Fenris’ feet as the other elf screamed at him; he now slowly pushed himself back up to his knees and knelt there, staring at the sand as the furious warrior stalked around him. He held his tongue, fully expecting the next thing he felt to be Fenris’ fist around his heart. he closed his eyes and silently told himself he would not scream when it came.

“Love...please stop, you scare me when you get like this. You might well attract anything with the way you are yelling. I beg of you to stop, if for no other reason than you are terrifying us both and you will wake Anders.” Invictus’ voice shook as he watched Fenris stop his tirade, snatch up his sword and stalk off through the foliage in fury.

“I thought he was going to kill us. Fuck...why do I ever make him angry?” Vic trembled as he sunk down to the ground. 

Zevran held perfectly still for long moments, his eyes still closed.

“Zev?” said Isabela quietly. “Zev... he’s gone.” She stared at him, concern in her warm golden-brown eyes as she sat up.

Zevran opened his eyes slowly. The sun upon the white sand seemed too bright; the blood roared deafeningly in his ears as he slowly got to his feet.

“Excuse me,” he said quietly, and walked away towards the sea.

“He’s not alright is he?” Vic asked as he rose slowly and followed behind the blond elf. “Zevran, talk to me.”

Zevran stumbled as he continued walking towards the water’s edge, almost like one suddenly struck blind, his movements slow and uncoordinated - a far cry from the elf’s customary fluid grace. If he heard Invictus, he gave no sign.

“Shit...shit shit.” Vic said as he approached the elf, then thought better of just grabbing him. “Zevran, come on you checking out is scaring me almost as much as Fenris’ having a meltdown.” 

Zevran stumbled to a halt, and then slowly turned back towards Invictus. His face looked drawn and grey, his eyes almost blank with shock, a faint air of disbelief about him as he slowly lifted his gaze to stare at Invictus. “He... didn’t kill me,” he said, tonelessly. “I thought he would kill me. Why am I still breathing?”

“He wasn’t going to kill you, or me Zevran. Let’s go back to camp, you look a moment from falling on your face.” Vic said as he approached Zevran very, very carefully in case the elf went deeper into shock.

“I’m... I’m alright, I’m... it’s nothing, I....” All the customary confidence was gone from Zevran’s voice, his accent noticeably thickened as he took a halting step towards Invictus and then another. “I’m, I’m fine. See? Fine. There is nothing wrong.” He tried to smile.

“Yeah and I’m the Empress of Orlais. Come on, let’s get you back to the fire, food should almost be done now.” Vic got a hold of the elven rogue and half pulled, half carried him back towards the fire and made him sit down. 

“Can you cut up the bird? Those flat cakes he made should be cooled off by now. I think Zev needs something in him and sleep. Right Isabela?” Vic asked as he nodded towards Zevran’s pack.

Isabela nodded as she delved into Zevran’s pack behind Anders. The blond mage was blinking at Zevran dazedly. 

“Zevran? You look like nug shit,” he smiled, bemused.

“That would be because I _am_ nug shit, friend Anders,” replied Zevran faintly.

Isabela pulled a small silver vial out of Zevran’s pack then made her way round to the fire. Then a moment later she pressed a warm cake into Zevran’s hands.

“Here, sweet thing, get that inside you and you’ll feel better,” she said to him gently as she sat down beside him. He looked down at the cake, shrugged, then ate it mechanically. As he swallowed the last bite, she reached up casually to stroke the side of his neck; he stiffened slightly then turned towards her with a faint ghost of a smile.

“I must teach you better my dear, I felt that, yes?” he murmured.

“Sorry, Zev,” she smiled.

“Don’t... don’t be....” he managed to whisper as his eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped backwards; she caught him before his head could hit the ground, and gently lowered him down.

“That’s not anything I want to do again.” Vic muttered as he turned to cast Heal upon Anders again, and Rejuvenate in the hope he’d be more lucid. 

Anders turned and stared quizzically at Invictus as he felt the touch of magic, then blinked slowly as he lifted a hand to his head. “Ohhh... Maker... I feel so ill,” he groaned as he slumped back against his pack. “Vic? What’s going on?”

“You got really sick right before we left the inn, Fenris is off having a breakdown, Zev had to be put to sleep and I’m the calm one. So everything is just great!” Invictus put some mint leaves in a cup and warmed water until it was hot enough to make tea. “There, once your stomach settles, I’ll make sure you eat.” 

Anders groaned faintly. “I don’t remember ever feeling this ill before,” he moaned. “How long was I delirious? Don’t tell me I wasn’t; I know I have a fever,” he added.

“Most of the way here.” Vic said as he lifted the cup to Anders’ lips. “Once you’ve eaten, maybe try to heal yourself?”

Anders sipped the tea slowly. He pulled away briefly. “Need water more than food,” he breathed. “I’m dehydrated.” He took another mouthful of tea, then another, taking it steadily until it was all gone and Invictus lowered the cup. 

“I’m going to need water,” he said, staring up at Invictus. “I can feel the toxins in my blood.” he gave a ghastly grin. “It seems I am a very sick man. That’s what I get for going swimming in flood waters. Too late for that now though. Water. I need water. And elfroot. I need you to be my hands, Vic. I can tell you how to treat me but I need you to make the teas for me.” Sweat was beginning to bead upon his forehead again, his amber eyes fever-bright as he licked his lips and stared up at the other mage. “Fenris. Where’s Fenris?” he closed his eyes. “No... you already told me. He’s angry, gone off somewhere. No matter. You can do this Vic.” He opened his eyes and stared up at Invictus again. “Listen. You have to remember this. I haven’t much time.”

“What do you mean, you haven’t got much time?” Invictus grasped Anders by the shoulders. “Anders, what do you mean??”

Anders shook his head. “Just listen, and remember,” he panted. He began to fire off a list of ingredients. “I need that, brewed every two hours. Get as much of it in me as you can. Doesn’t matter if any spills, just give me as much as I can keep down. After the first 24 hours, I’ll need it every four hours. The fever should break after that.” he swallowed, his eyes wandering. “Break... should break... should... wait, I can’t think....”

“No, no… no… don’t do this to me. I can’t, I don’t even know what half those herbs look like.” Vic panicked as he tried to get Anders to reply to him, to give him the list again. 

Anders’ eyes had started to flutter shut but he started awake again. “Vic... so tired. Fenris... Fenris knows. Zev. Just... just....” His eyes rolled closed. “Just remember... remember... what? I don’t.... Karl knows, ask Karl....”

Invictus let him lie back but he just stared at Anders, his mind whirled with what his fellow mage had tried to list off, the instructions he probably couldn’t follow with a torch and a month to learn. “Maker, help me.” he whispered.

“Elfroot. Tansy. Feverfew. Love-lies-bleeding. Crystal grace. Chamomile. Willowbark,” chanted a voice just behind him. Isabela gave him a mirthless grin when he span around. “Elfroot, tansy, feverfew, love-lies-bleeding, crystal grace, chamomile, willowbark. Better hurry Invictus Hawke and go calm Fenris down, I can’t sit here chanting it forever. Elfroot, tansy, feverfew....”

Vic nodded as he remembered the ingredients then set off in the hopes of finding his other lover and that Anders had all the herbs in his pack. Before he could get far, he ran into the elven fighter, and scrambled backwards from him.

Fenris was covered in blood, his expression impossible to read even as he turned dark eyes to his lover. He said nothing but carried on towards the camp, uncaring how he might appear; covered in gore as he was.

Isabela looked up at him, still chanting the list of herbs as he walked straight past her, ignoring the unconscious Antivan elf sprawled upon the sand at her side. She rolled her eyes at Invictus and jerked her head at Fenris’ back, chanting louder. 

Vic shook his head _no_ as he upended Anders pack and sorted through all of his things, grateful when Isabela pointed out the herbs she could recognize on sight. Once those few were assembled he dug through the bag for parchment so he could write the rest down. 

“Would Zevran know any of the others?” Vic asked as he waved the sheet dry. “I’m no healer, but he’ll die otherwise.”

“Yes, I think so - he brews many of his own reagents and antidotes,” replied Isabela. “And I guess Fenris has picked up a fair amount both on his own and hanging around Anders.”

Nakusa watched them silently, his blue eyes large and worried. He was cradling the unconscious Anders in his arms, darting glances at the two as they talked then back towards the sea in the direction Fenris had gone.

Fenris sluiced off the last of the blood in his hair, tugged on his damp tunic and leggings and brought his armor back to shore. He didn’t say much, but he did notice two things. All the contents of Anders pack strewn over a blanket and the way the mage kept one foot apart from him. 

“What did he tell you to brew?” the elf asked as he sat down to gingerly take Anders leg in hand. 

Anders had been mumbling incoherently to himself in Nakusa’s arms, but as Fenris took hold of his ankle his eyes flew open and he cried out in pain.

Isabela reached for the piece of parchment then thought better of it. When last she’d seen Fenris he hadn’t been able to read, she remembered. She chanted the list of ingredients again, then glanced at Invictus. “Did I get it right? Did I forget any?” she asked quietly.

“I don’t think so, but I can only identify the ones you pointed out. Damn me for not listening when dad tried to teach me these things.” Vic muttered.

“I’ll check his foot, wake Zevran to see what he can identify, it will help me.” Fenris muttered as he let his hand glow softly to check for whatever had caused the mage’s infection. “Did he get caught on anything, cut himself while you searched for a boat” he asked while he probed Anders.

The blond mage jerked and whimpered as Fenris’ fingers brushed across his skin.

“Fishing line - his foot was caught, I had to cut him free,” called Isabela over her shoulder as she rifled through Zevran’s satchel. “Damn, I hope he keeps the antidotes next to his poisons,” she added. She pulled out a small blue bottle with a silver thread wound around the neck. “Do you think this is the right one? If I get the wrong one I could kill him.” She bit her lip and stared at the little silver vial she’d used before. “Damn you, Zevran Arainai, why can’t you just label your damned poisons like anyone else?”

“Vic, use Rejuvenate or something. Isabela if it’s the bottle you used before, I’d gather too much would kill him. Both of you be quiet for a moment so I can concentrate.” Fenris closed his eyes as he felt for anything that didn’t belong, he found nothing but more infection.

“The cuts from the fishing line caused this and being in that filthy water.” He glanced to Nakusa then to shore. “Can you get some water, Vic boil it and get me my pack. I want to clean this with soap and clean water if I can.”

Nakusa regarded his brother fearfully, not moving from his knees as he cradled Anders still. Isabela got up and left the unconscious former crow to Invictus as she took a pan and headed off at a run for the freshwater spring.

Anders moaned then called Fenris’ name, tossing his head restlessly before breaking into a fit of coughing once more until he was gasping for breath between each bout, his breath wheezing and laboured.

“Relax, just cleaning this wound.” Fenris soothed.

Vic placed his hand over Zevran’s forehead and cast Rejuvenate with a bit more power than he’d normally use. “If there is a Maker you’ll open your eyes.”

Zevran jerked abruptly beneath his hand as his eyes flew open, blank and mindless as he drew a sharp breath and then twisted suddenly until Invictus found himself sprawled upon his stomach, one wrist twisted up between his shoulderblades and a knife at his throat. He felt Zevran’s body quiver, tense, atop him, and then the knife lowered as he felt the former Crow relax slightly. “Hawke? What...” Suddenly the weight atop the mage was gone as Zevran threw himself back and away from Fenris. He stared at the other elf, his breath quickening as he slowly lowered his knife to the ground then backed away.

“We need you to help identify some herbs.” Hawke grunted as he forced himself up and to his feet. “It’s alright, didn’t think about you coming around like that.”

Fenris didn’t bother with either of them, he was too busy trying to keep Anders from kicking him in the face. “Relax, I’m going to clean this while Zevran and Vic figure out which herbs are which so they can brew your potion.” 

Isabela returned with the pan of water and set it over the fire. Zevran straightened slowly, still breathing hard as he stared at Fenris, then slowly shook his head as he stepped over to the blanket and crouched down to look at the herbs. He picked up the scrap of parchment then deftly sorted through the selection before him, picking up several pouches to sniff them before setting aside the ones needed then gathering up the others and carefully repacking Anders’ pack.

Isabela wordlessly held out the two small vials she’d taken from his satchel, and studied the small blue bottle for a moment. “It is as well you woke me as you did, friend Hawke,” he said diffidently. “Had you left me to Isabela you would have had the dubious pleasure of watching me die in most exquisite agony.” He spoke as though he were merely observing an curiosity of the weather as he rose and returned the two vials to his satchel. He glanced over at Isabela and smiled. “Blue is always poison, my dear.”

Invictus swallowed as he got a bowl and scrap of soap for Fenris. “Do you need help?” he asked quietly.

“Not unless he kicks me in the face, then you’ll need to keep me from breaking his ankle for it.” Fenris dipped a square of cloth into the hot water, then gently began to scrub at the cuts on his lover’s foot and ankle. 

“Alright, I’ll...I’ll just help Zevran then.” Vic murmured as he dropped down next to the Antivan. 

“I don’t know what’s worse, the blind rage or this calmness.” he wondered under his breath.

Fenris’ casual threat must have somehow penetrated the fog of delirium; Anders went still as he felt the elf take hold of his ankle again, only whimpering very faintly once before beginning to murmur something. 

Nakusa bent over the delirious man and listened then glanced up with a shocked expression. “He’s... he’s begging you not to hurt him, brother,” he whispered. “He... he says he’ll be good if you will only not hurt him. He... “ Nakusa swallowed as an expression of pity washed over his face. “He says he’ll be a good mage.”

Fenris shuddered as he let Anders’ foot drop to his lap. “Here… I, I can’t finish.” he scooted back so he could leave, then he dropped next to the fire, his face in his hands as he tried not to cringe at Anders’ words. 

Nakusa lowered Anders gently down onto the bedroll then took Fenris’ place, very gently washing the sick man’s foot and ankle as Anders whimpered in his sleep. Isabela got up and moved over to kneel by Anders’ head and gently stroked his face as she murmured gently to him; after a little while he quietened. She glanced at Nakusa who nodded that he was done, then she glanced at Zevran who was leaning over the pot of steeping herbs. None of them looked at Fenris.

For his part the elf simply sat there with his shoulders slumped as he gave up any pretence of being alright. He started when he felt someone’s arm around his shoulder. “Leave me alone, just leave me alone.” he moaned pathetically.

Nakusa lowered his arm but didn’t move, instead glancing over to where Zevran was carefully pouring a little of the brew into Anders’ mouth as Isabela helped support the sick man. Anders coughed and spluttered, much of the cup spilling down his chin, but Zevran only patiently set the cup to Anders’ lips again until the mage drank.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Fenris replied as he tried to hide himself from his sibling. “Forgive me.”

Nakusa turned his head and stared at Fenris for a long moment, then nodded. “Of course,” he said quietly before turning his attention back to Anders. 

“How much, how often?” asked Zevran as he lowered the cup. Anders was blinking, his eyes unfocused as he mumbled something indistinct, and then said Fenris’ name, clearly and distinctly.

The fighter turned at the sound of his name but didn’t go over to Anders’ side.

“Fenris,” Anders repeated hoarsely. He reached a hand out blindly.

“Fenris is right here, sweet thing,” said Isabela quietly. “He’s right here.”

“No... please... where....” Anders closed his eyes, his hand still outstretched.

“You need to rest,” said Zevran quietly.

“Where is he?” whispered Anders. “Why are you keeping him from me?”

Fenris went over and took Anders’ hand in his, and squeezed gently. “I’m here.”

“Fenris... I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” the blond mage whispered. He opened his eyes with difficulty and rolled them towards the elf. “Fenris....” His eyes fluttered closed and his hand went limp in Fenris’ grasp.

“No...don’t, Anders!” Fenris pleaded as he tried to rouse the mage. “Don’t do this to me, please, please.” 

“Fenris. Fenris, he’s only sleeping. _Carissimi_.” 

“Are you sure, he looks dead.” Fenris pleaded as he tried to rouse the mage again. “Don’t be dead, I’ll treat you better, I’m so sorry.”

“On my life, _Carissimi_ ,” said Zevran gently. “I swear to you he is only sleeping. Here, feel his heart beat.”

Fenris rested his hand over Anders chest and rested his head against the mages heart with a sigh.


	29. Chapter 29

The next twenty-four hours passed slowly for them all save Anders, who was deep in delirium. They took it in turns to stay up with him through the evening and the night, feeding him the brew every two hours as he’d instructed Invictus. As the hours passed the moments of lucidity became fewer until when next Invictus lifted him gently in his arms to sit him up for his next dose, the fever-glazed eyes that stared up at him were utterly devoid of recognition.

Towards morning he became still and quiet, his breathing slow and laboured; the others gathered around him, staring at each other silently as Zevran attempted to coax another dose of the medicine into Anders. They were all in fear that each weak, difficult breath would be his last, but the night passed and by morning he was still with them, delirious and fever-ridden still.

The first twenty-four hours passed and Anders still clung to life; a little stronger it seemed. The fever finally broke some time late on the second day, leaving him sleeping peacefully.

By the third day he was lucid enough to recognise the others and even whisper Fenris’ name hoarsely when the elf gave him his evening dose, his pale hand squeezing the warrior’s warm brown one weakly.

By the fourth day he had recovered enough to sit up for a little while and talk, though the effort tired him, leaving him exhausted swiftly. They judged him well enough to risk moving him from the beach; Zevran and Isabela scouted and found a warm dry cave well above the faded lines of old floods, and they carried Anders into the shelter carefully. Then leaving Isabela to watch over Anders, the men returned to the beach to remove the awning, furl the sails, unstep the mast and then drag the boat further up the beach. They left it there, upturned, setting rocks around it in case of a high rough sea; they didn’t know if they would need it again but it seemed prudent to safeguard their sole means of seaborne transport in case of further storms. They took the awning back to the cave to fashion a curtain across the entrance of the cave to give further protection in case of inclement weather.

Their precautions were timely; another storm blew up that evening, and the wind and rain raged and howled around their shelter but within the cave they were dry, warm and protected.

A week later, Anders had recovered enough that they could venture once more to discuss how to get off Seheron and go home.

The blond apostate was still very weak; he sat on the edge of the low bed Zevran had made for him from soft leaves and springy soft wood, laid over with blankets. Invictus and Fenris sat either side of him, Invictus’ strong arm braced reassuringly around his shoulders and Fenris’ hand draped loose yet comforting around his waist as he cradled a mug of tea in his hands and regarded the others.

Fenris had become quieter with each day Anders fought for life, to remain with them whole and himself. By the time the mage was well enough to sit and talk with with them, he had fallen to speaking only when asked a question, otherwise he kept his own council.

Invictus was worried for both of them; Anders seemed to be recovering physically, but he worried about what Solona had done to his mind. His fear for Fenris was deeper but the elf could not be moved to speak no matter how kindly he asked. His attention was drawn back by the blond mage asking when they planned to travel.

Anders was glancing at Fenris, the elf realised, his hands clasped loosely around the mug as he shook a stray strand of greasy dark blond hair out of his eyes, his amber gaze clearer than he’d seen it in a week. He may be weak in body, but his mind seemed, at least, as sharp and recovered as ever. Anders lifted one eyebrow and Fenris belatedly realised Anders’ question had been mostly for him.

“Don’t know, that’ s up to the weather, where we can get to. I’m not good at sailing, so ask _her_ ,” Fenris replied dully, indicating Isabela.

Anders frowned slightly and laid one hand lightly on Fenris’ forearm. “Love?” he asked gently. “Can I help?” He spoke in Tevene with that slightly odd Anderfels-yet-not-quite accent that was unique to him, and Fenris realised he hadn’t heard Anders speak the elf’s native tongue in far too long. It was comforting and reassuring.

“Not sure... home. Home might help, I don’t know anymore,” Fenris replied in Tevene, his voice low, sounding as tired as he felt.

Anders glanced back at Invictus then returned his gaze to Fenris. “We’re going home Fenris - just as soon as we decide how we’re travelling,” he promised him gently.

The elf giggled at that, the idea that they would ever get home again. It wasn’t his usual laugh, just a high-pitched sound - too wrong to come from the warrior.

Invictus’ eyes widened in fear that his lover had finally slipped off whatever ledge he’d been on for the duration. He watched as Fenris continued to giggle maniacally at the idea they would ever get home.

“Love...we’re going to get home, please believe us. We’re going to leave soon and you need to keep it together just a little longer.” Invictus dropped to his knees before the elf and took his hands so he could hold them and show Fenris they were still alright before he lost himself completely. He didn’t mention how badly seeing the elven warrior lose it made him panic.

Anders dropped his mug as he reached instinctively for Fenris. “Love, easy. Deep breaths. Please, just...” He glanced away for a moment, unnerved, then slipped his arms around the tense elf and pressed his forehead against Fenris’ shoulder. “We’re here love - both of us. We’ll get home, please, just... just hang on, hang in there, stay with us.”

Across the cave, on the other side of the fire, Nakusa watched the trio. Though his face was calm and impassive, inside he was very far from calm. He had seen his brother pushed into as close a berserker rage as he had ever seen him in the short time they’d been together, and coming so soon after Anders’ near brush with death the elven warrior’s hysteria was a little more than he really knew how to handle. He was already tense and on edge; he hadn’t breathed a word of it to any of them, but he had felt keenly the touch and presence of many spirits clustering around the mage on the night he had so nearly crossed the Veil, and Fenris’ unhinged laughter echoed a little too closely his own feelings.

Fenris’ laughter stopped as suddenly as it had come on; he breathed in deeply before he spoke, more to calm himself than anything. “I’m sorry, I’ll do my best to keep it together. I’m sorry.” He bent forward and pressed a soft kiss to the underside of Anders’ jaw then extricated himself from their holds.

“I need a moment, excuse me.” He headed towards the back of the cave, settled on his bedroll and tried to find the centre, the calm he usually could touch with little effort. 

Invictus got a refill for Anders, then resumed his spot next to the blond. “I think if the weather breaks tomorrow we should try to get to a city. Hunting is good enough but we are all mightily sick of this place. The question is which is the best, and fastest way.” 

Anders sipped the hot tea, as much to steady his nerves as anything else, gathering his thoughts. “Not Tevinter,” he said quietly, repressing a shudder. He glanced up at Isabela. “The boat - how far out can we go?”

“Not far enough, sweet thing,” replied Isabela with an apologetic shrug. “It’s a pinnace - it’s only meant to do tender work, ferrying goods and people between the harbour and any ships with a draught too deep to enter the harbour or tow other vessels. It’s not fit for the open sea; really it was pushing it even using it as a coaster. We might be able to follow the shore around the point and reach Alam and hope to steal something better there - a small brigantine maybe.”

“Alam was overrun by the Qunari, I fear,” interjected Zevran. “They were invading even as we fled the city.”

“What about trying to get to the Antivan side of the border? Void, at this point I’d try to swim home,” Vic muttered.

Isabela shook her head slowly. “I’m not sure even I’d dare risk that. If the weather holds, we _might_ make the crossing, but any squall would take us down. if there’s no other way then that’s what we’ll have to do, but Maker - I wouldn’t lay gold on our chances.”

“Then what else can we do? We can’t stay here indefinitely, for all we know maybe Varric has assumed we’re dead by now. I’d rather not have to prove I’m quite alive,” Vic said tiredly.

While they spoke Fenris had gone over to Nakusa tentatively, unsure if his brother would welcome his presence. “May I sit with you?” he asked softly in Tevene.

Nakusa nodded absently, his gaze still drawn to the blond mage who was following the discussion between Invictus and Isabela intently, his gaze only lifting from Isabela to dart to Zevran as the Antivan lounged against the wall, cleaning out his fingernails with the point of a dagger, before returning to Isabela. The scarred elf threw his long hair back over his shoulder and picked up a piece of kindling, mindlessly stripping off the bark as he watched Anders.

Fenris curled up with his head in Nakusa’s lap, one arm under his head and the other against his side. “Will you talk to me, tell me what you remember of us as boys?” he asked softly.

Nakusa blinked, the question unexpected. He dropped his gaze to his brother, and frowned a little. “I... do not remember much,” he confessed. “You were very young when I was sold to Danarius; little more than a toddler.” He smiled fondly. “My little shadow; that was what Mother called you. You would follow me around when my duties allowed. You had this piece of wood - it was almost as long as you, it was your sword, and you wanted me to teach you how to swing it but I had no idea - I was just a slave boy, after all. But you so wanted to have a swordfight so I would indulge you.” He chuckled and brushed an eyebrow with his fingertips. “You were strong, even as a babe; I still bear a faint scar where you managed to hit me hard enough to split the skin. You were so upset to think you had hurt me. I had to lie to the Master and tell him I had fallen in the yard so he wouldn’t be angry with you.”

“Guess I got my wish,” Fenris mumbled, his body relaxed as Nakusa spoke, his voice fragile as he felt. “Thank you for telling me, I know nothing of our past, except bits and pieces that tease me in dreams.”

“You were such a strong-willed child, even so young,” mused Nakusa. “I remember that much. So determined. Mother was afraid it would cause you much heartache in life, but I was glad. I knew you would need to be strong. Weak slaves do not live long.”

“Look where it’s gotten me,” Fenris replied before he reached up for Nakusa’s hand to grasp in his own. “I am afraid brother, and they cannot help me; I cannot help myself out of this darkness I’ve fallen into,” he whispered, afraid those that could understand their language would overhear.

Invictus was too deep in conversation with Anders and Isabela to hear his words, though it would have broken him a little more to hear them.

Nakusa’s fingers tightened slightly about Fenris’ hand. “Fenris, there is a very good reason why Danarius selected first me, and then you for his experiments. It is because we survive. We endure. And there is nothing we cannot endure. It may seem a terrible, daunting thing, but you have endured so much already and lived through it. Darkness cannot last forever. Bravery is not that you do a hard thing without fear - but that you fear and do it anyway.” He smiled faintly. “And you are, I think, a braver man than I, my brother, though perhaps you do not realise it.”

Fenris sniffed and turned his face so Nakusa wouldn’t hear him struggle with words of thanks. He blinked the tears that welled up at his sibling’s words away as best he could before he tried to speak, but couldn’t manage more than a hoarse thank you.

Nakusa lifted his free hand to gently rub Fenris’ shoulder comfortingly, his hand automatically avoiding the swirls of lyrium etched into the other man’s skin. “Look to your Anders and your Hawke. You are not alone, my brother. They understand fear.” He glanced up, his gaze drawn back to the blond apostate once more. “Particularly that one. One cannot come so close to death and remain unmarked - not one whom the spirits would have claimed -” He broke off, as if sensing he were giving away more of his own fears than he felt prudent.

“We all feared he would breathe his last over the past week; I know how close he came to the Veil, brother.” Fenris sat up and rubbed at his face, self-conscious of the tear tracks as he tried to get himself together. 

“Thank you, I needed this.” He leaned against Nakusa, gently in case contact with his markings bothered his sibling. 

Across the fire, Anders was silent, trying to follow the discussion as Isabela and Zevran argued about the relative risks of cruising the coast to Alam in hopes of finding a better vessel for a deep-sea voyage versus attempting the crossing over the strait at the start of the storm season in the pinnace. He was having problems following the argument; he was feeling tired again, his meagre reserves of energy already faltering, though he didn’t want to worry Invictus any further by retreating back to his bed and sleeping again. He felt ratty and unclean; he knew he didn’t smell too pleasant after a week of lying in his own sweat, his hair lank and in desperate need of a wash. 

He set the empty mug down by his feet and ran his hands slowly over his face, pondering the relative merits of a quick Rejuvenate whilst hopefully no-one was looking. It might be enough to at least get him up onto his feet long enough to wash, and he could sleep it off afterwards.

Invictus nudged at him and nodded towards the sea. “Feeling up to a soak?” he asked quietly. “You’ve been out of it a week, maybe a quick dip will help wake you up a bit and we can change out the bedding while you’re washing up.”

Anders stared towards the cave exit and pondered how much energy it would take him to stand up. He nodded slowly and reached for his staff, drawing on his magic as surreptitiously as possible as he levered himself to his feet to subtly rejuvenate himself. A faint breeze stirred through the cave, though the air outside was still; he half-fancied he heard faint voices whispering encouragement. Was that a ghostly touch upon his skin? He frowned slightly. As a spirit healer he had always had a greater awareness and attunement to spirits, but somehow it seemed he had been aware of them far more than usual even for him of late. Or maybe there were simply more spirits lingering nearby in this place. He wondered what could be drawing them to this place. Perhaps that rift that -

Even as the chance thought of Solona rose in his mind, he felt his chest tighten, his throat clenching. He swallowed it down and deliberately turned his thoughts away. “Invictus,” he asked quietly, hoping his voice gave nothing away. “Would you come with me? I’m still not used to being up yet. I probably shouldn’t be in the water on my own just yet.”

“Of course love.” Vic helped him to the water, and helped Anders sit in a shallow rock pool lined with soft mossy seaweed and smooth, sun-warmed stones so the apostate could bathe while Invictus took care of his clothes.

Anders took his time washing, cautious of pushing himself too far, but he couldn’t hold back a thankful groan. “It feels so good to be clean,” he admitted as he rinsed his hair, leaning back in the water with his face tilted up so the gentle waves could swirl through the honey-hued strands. The water lifted him gently, and he lay back, letting the sea take his weight as he floated there.

Vic smiled as he walked up to Anders floating with that calm look to him. “You look like a sea creature that washed up. Perhaps if I keep you, the sea can’t take you back, hmm?” 

Anders chuckled quietly as he opened his eyes and glanced up at Invictus. “A sea creature am I? I don’t think I’ve ever been called that before!”

“Well you’re like those tales, except a man. Sirens I think they’re called. You look like one, just lying in wait for a silly human to take you in then you’ll lure me back to the water with you.” Vic knelt down to kiss the other mage, glad he was in the mood to be teased.

Anders lifted one dripping hand up out of the water. “Help me out, love? Not sure I could manage it on my own; I’m still pretty tired,” he admitted. Out of the water, his arm felt like lead, and he wasn’t sure he had enough strength left to climb out of the shallow rock-pool himself. The brief surge of energy from his sly spell had worn off all too quickly.

“Of course.” Vic helped him up and helped him into his trousers, the rest slung over his arm for the walk back. “I’ll put these out to dry, does you no good to get right back into everything if it’s damp.”

Anders leaned into the comforting strength of Invictus’ arm gratefully, even as he used his staff for additional balance. His legs were beginning to feel decidedly shaky. He shook his wet hair back over his shoulder and turned towards the cave. He was glad to be able to sink back down onto the bed; even that small exertion had drained him. He flopped back onto his pillow and drew a deep breath then coughed, grimacing.

“Care for a Rejuvenate?” Vic asked as he laid out the mage’s clothes.

Anders shifted onto his side, grimacing as he coughed again, then nodded.

With a smile Vic cast on him, pleased when it seemed to help Anders relax. “Gonna check on Fenris then see what we have left to eat. Will you be alright?”

Anders nodded. “Just a little out of breath,” he admitted. “I’ll be alright in a minute.”

With a nod, Invictus headed to the back of the cave where Fenris seemed to be asleep as he leaned against his brother, brow slightly furrowed from whatever he dreamt of. He didn’t speak but looked to Nakusa then back to his lover curiously.

Nakusa glanced up at Invictus then silently laid a finger to his lips and shook his head. He returned his attention to the bird he was plucking; two others lay upon a large green leaf beside him, already plucked and cleaned. Zevran was mixing something in a bowl nearby; he glanced up with a quick grin before going back to what he was doing.

Vic took the hint and went back to sit with Anders, watch over him as the mage rested from his short jaunt. He was worried about everyone’s sanity, even his own as he leaned back against the makeshift bed and let his mind wander.

Isabela was sat crosslegged nearby, busy fiddling with some pieces of wood and one of Zevran’s smaller knives. She was carving small marks on a curved piece of whittled wood, quietly whistling to herself.

Vic started awake when he felt Anders’ hand land on his shoulder. “Shit, I didn’t mean to doze off,” he muttered, even as he reached to take the blond’s hand in his. 

“Sleep alright love? Or have you been awake while I nodded off?”

“Dozing mostly,” said Anders quietly. “Are you alright? You were muttering in your sleep; I could hear it even whilst I was mostly asleep myself.”

Isabela glanced up and narrowed her eyes thoughtfully as she stared at Anders, then went back to slotting her pieces of carved wood together. Invictus must have been asleep longer than he had thought; whatever she was making was almost finished.

“Not really but someone has to keep a level head, never thought it would be me.” Vic deflected the question poorly he knew, but he didn’t have it in him to care. He got up, stretched and whined at the loud popping noises his back let out.

Fenris finally stirred when Nakusa’s motions made it hard to rest against his sibling without getting jostled. “Food?” he slurred as he rubbed his eyes and tried to come fully around.

“Soon,” Nakusa nodded.

Anders lifted one arm and pressed his palm against the small of Invictus’ back, channelling warm healing energy through the other mage without opening his eyes before dropping back onto the bed and letting his arm fall limply.

“Stop that, you need to save your strength,” Vic fussed even as he felt relief flood him at the pain going away.

“Alright, I’ll be right back.” Fenris wandered off to find a bush, half awake as he returned to camp and flopped by Anders. 

“Feel better?” he asked quietly.

“I-” Anders broke off with a fit of coughing; when he could draw breath again, he nodded wordlessly. He shifted slightly on the bed, trying to find a more comfortable position where one of the green branches wasn’t poking him through the blankets, then settled again, his eyes closed.

Isabela inspected the wooden device she’d made with a grin then went outside.

Fenris got him water and helped him sit up to drink it. ”Easy, no need to choke on it.” The elf watched his lover for any further distress; satisfied Anders was alright for the moment, he rested against the blond man. 

“You called for me while delirious; do you remember why?” the elven fighter asked as he curled against his mage.

“Did I?” Anders blinked. “Well....” He shrugged. “I can’t really remember much - I was rather out of it and a lot of it feels like I dreamed it. But - well, I love you. I guess I just... I needed to know you were there.” He lifted his eyes to stare up at Fenris. “And we’d, well, had that upset over Isabela between us just before I got sick. I guess it must have been on my mind a lot.”

“I was afraid you were going to die. I’m sorry if I worried you, love.” Fenris rested his head on Anders’ chest, let his arm rest over his waist and tried to get as close as he could without smothering the mage.

Anders let his hand drift up to stroke Fenris’ hair as he stared up at the low ceiling of the cave. Had Fenris glanced up, he would have seen a bleak expression cross the blond apostate’s face. Anders was well aware with hindsight just how close to death he had been, but he didn’t think sharing that with Fenris would be a wise move with the white-haired elf already so off-kilter. 

“Good job I didn’t die then,” he tried to quip.

“Please...just hold me,” Fenris asked quietly in Tevene, his grip a little tighter as he made sure his mage was there for the duration. Anders obediently wrapped both arms around Fenris, aware his grip was not as tight as that of the elf upon him. He mentally cursed his continued weakness; doubtless his current state was not helping to reassure Fenris. He closed his eyes and tried to give Fenris a reassuring squeeze.

“When we get home, you can have all the cats you want, Void I’ll even buy them for you,” Fenris said as he glanced up at Anders but couldn’t see his face from the angle he’d lain at. 

“Have to believe we’ll get home,” the elf muttered more to himself than to his lover.

It was on Anders’ tongue to quip that he had no intentions of dying there on Seheron but he bit his tongue and merely tightened his arms around Fenris as much as he could. He wanted to promise Fenris that they would make it home safe and sound, but on the present evidence he, at least, wasn’t doing too well on that score.

“I love you...don’t leave us,” Fenris whispered as he fell asleep, lulled by the mage's warmth and the sound of his heartbeat under him.

Anders felt the elf relax slowly against him and grow heavier as he went limp. He felt his eyes prickling and blinked swiftly. He stared at the rocks overhead, then turned his head upon the pillow, casting his eyes about for Invictus.

Isabela chose that moment to bounce in with a broad grin on her face. “Well bugger me sideways and call me a nug’s uncle, it actually works!” she exclaimed.

Zevran straightened and stared at her. “You are a nug’s uncle,” he replied. “What works?”

She brandished the wooden object she’d been working on with a flourish. “This! We have an octant!” She laughed at Nakusa’s clueless expression. “An octant - it means I can take sight readings and chart where we are.” Nakusa continued to look baffled. “For _navigation!_ ” she emphasised.

Invictus shrugged at her enthusiasm, clueless as Fenris’ sibling. “I can steer the thing with help, beyond that I’m useless.” 

Zevran smiled slowly. “With a chart and an octant, our chances of surviving a trip across the strait back to the mainland just improved immeasurably I believe,” he said as he inclined his head towards Isabela.

“And thanks to Zev we have a chart,” Isabela nodded. “I still say it would be bloody madness to even attempt it, but then over half of your schemes and ventures would be considered madness by most rational people anyway, Hawke. We might just have a vague chance of pulling this off.”

“I’ll take it then. I think I need a wash before dinner and maybe I’ll feel human again.” He turned to glance at Anders, and quirked an eyebrow in surprise at Fenris curled up against the blond’s side.

Anders blinked swiftly and managed to muster a smile that he almost felt. “So who’s going to break the happy news to Fenris? Someone please tell me my herb pouches survived OK so I can tell Zevran how to brew the anti-emetics we’re going to need?”

“You can tell him when he wakes up, both of you need all the rest you can get. If he’s not up by the time food’s done, then I’ll risk it.” Vic gave him a smile before he headed back to the shore for a quick dip.

Anders fought down the momentary impulse to ask him to stay for a moment, instead watching Invictus until he was out of sight. Then he turned his face towards the wall and sighed softly and closed his eyes. Fenris was a dead weight atop him, and his chest felt tight, but he let the elf sleep. He was slowly drifting into sleep when he heard Invictus return, but lay still, hoping to find sleep soon. Maker knew he was certainly tired enough.

Zevran set the flatcakes he’d made to bake on stones around the fire then checked the spitted birds, turning them to ensure they were roasting evenly. He’d stripped the meat from one of the birds and set it to stew with various herbs, what vegetables he recognised growing nearby and a handful of grain; he felt a stew might be more easy on Anders’ stomach after so long ill. He glanced up as Invictus returned and smiled.

The atmosphere in the cave had changed slightly since Isabela’s announcement of her success; though their chances still seemed slim, at least they’d improved over no chance at all.

Vic waited until the food was done before he roused Fenris and Anders; the two of them looked cozy but he knew they would need to eat and keep up their strength if they were to try and get off the damned island soon.

“Come on sleeping beauties, time for food.” Vic cajoled them both until Anders opened his eyes and nudged at the elf sleeping on him.

“Fenris,” Anders called gently as he nudged the elf’s shoulder. He trailed a finger slowly around the shell of Fenris’ ear and along the point. “Fen? Are you with us?”

“What, what is it?” the elf asked as he sat up with a jaw cracking yawn. “Is that food I smell?” he added as he gingerly rose and gave Anders room to move.

Anders nodded. “Dinner. You need to eat.” He smiled as Fenris stood up and then he held his hand out to the warrior so Fenris could pull him upright. He coughed a little as he sat upright but waved Fenris off when he frowned in concern. “I’ll be fine, just give me a moment,” he wheezed.

“As you say ,love.” Fenris got Anders over to the side of the fire, and sat down before he dropped to the ground next to him. He was still out of sorts but not as deep in despair as he’d felt just a week prior.

Vic ate quietly, his mind on home, thoughts of getting to sleep in their bed and not moving for at least week, the city be damned.

Zevran passed a bowl of the stew to Anders then began serving the roast fowl and flatcakes to the others. Anders had looked dubious at sight of the fowl but brightened as he tucked into the stew; the liquid was soothing to his throat and he knew the light yet filling fare would be easier on his shrunken stomach than the rich birds. He took it slowly as he listened to the others’ idle chat. It seemed everyone’s thoughts were on home.

Fenris kept quiet as he ate, sure the others might still be afraid after his meltdown and how he’d acted just a couple days before. He didn’t know what to do other than eat and remain silent. 

Vic leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, whispered words of adoration to him then went back to his meal.

Isabela was chatting animatedly to Zevran and explaining to Nakusa how the octant worked, gesticulating towards the object in question with a legbone of the bird she was devouring as he listened in rapt fascination whilst Zevran added the occasional interjection. Anders steadily worked his way through his stew, glancing up occasionally to watch Isabela or gaze at Invictus and Fenris when he thought they weren’t looking. He was concerned for Fenris; he had the distinct impression something had happened whilst he was delirious that he was oblivious to, but he was unwilling to ask.

Once the elf had finished eating he headed for his bedroll. He wasn’t in a sociable mood even with a full belly. Fenris watched the others but kept quiet, even though he knew his silence would worry Invictus and Anders. He just didn’t feel like talking.

Vic slid over to Anders, his gaze soft as he looked over his fellow mage. “You look much better after a bath and a hot meal love. Feeling better?” 

Anders nodded. “Much. I’m not back to full health yet and I still feel weak as a kitten; Lady could best me with one paw behind her back right now, but I feel far more myself than I was. I don’t remember ever being ill since before I was taken to the Circle - even the Joining wasn’t as bad as that.” He pulled a face. “I can’t wait until I’m recovered enough for us to be quit of this place entirely though.” He scraped the last grains from his bowl then set it down with a contented sigh, then leaned in against Invictus and let his head drop onto the other mage’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry to have caused you all such worry, love,” he said softly. “You didn’t need this on top of everything else. How are you holding up?”

“Shockingly fine, I’m sure once we are back home and actually in our bed with good wine and food, then I’ll fall apart. Till then, I’m trying to hold together with the idle thought this is all a fucked up dream and I’ll wake up at home soon.” Vic pressed another kiss to the blond’s face then glanced over to their elven lover. 

“I think we’ll all fare better once we’re home,” he mumbled in Tevene.

“Invictus... what happened whilst I was out of it? Something happened - something involving Fenris, didn’t it?” Anders asked in a hushed whisper. “I didn’t dare ask Fenris - not after that bout of hysteria this morning.”

“Later, once I know he’s asleep. He’ll have a fit if I talk about him like that while he’s awake,” Vic murmured.

Anders dropped his gaze to the ground for a moment and nodded, then he reached behind himself for his staff and slowly got to his feet a little unsteadily. “Call of nature,” he muttered as he started to make his way towards the cave exit.

“Yell if you need help,” Vic said as he watched the other mage head off. He turned to where Fenris had seemingly fallen asleep as everyone drifted off after eating. He wasn’t sure the elf was truly asleep but he didn’t chance waking him. Instead he nudged Zevran and asked if he’d keep an eye out while he tended to their healer.

“But of course,” Zevran nodded as he gathered up Anders’ bowl and spoon. “Go; he is not yet well enough to be wandering off alone, hmm?”

“He doesn’t need me hovering over him when he tries to take a piss,” Vic replied but relented at the look on Zevran’s face. “Fine, I’ll go, I’ll go.” 

Invictus followed Anders' trail of broken twigs and a tell-tale line in the dirt from the end of his staff. “Sorry," he called as he headed towards the bushes Anders' light trail led to. "I was reminded that you might not be alright by yourself yet. Maker forbid I wish to help you preserve any dignity,” he added with a huff.

Anders glanced up from where he sat on the ground with his back against a tree trunk. “The only affront to my dignity was the bit where I nearly fell over my own feet,” he confessed. “And then realised that maybe I’m not quite well enough to go quite as far as this from my bed. I should have picked a closer bush.” He shrugged ruefully. “Still, seeing as we’re both out here now....” He lifted an eyebrow and leaned back against the treetrunk.

“So, what happened with Fenris and why is he tiptoeing on eggshells around everyone?” he asked.

Vic took his arm and slowly started them back towards the camp. “He’s … on edge, he had some kind of break emotionally while you were really ill. Zevran suggested taking you for help in case you weren’t able to make the journey back to the nearest city and well; he didn’t take it well. Screamed and raged at Zevran until he went into shock. Fenris went off for a couple hours, came back soaked in blood that wasn’t his and then was calm, almost doting when he took care of your injuries. It was like night and day, and he’s been volatile as the winds ever since. I don’t think he’s going to be the same even when we get home. He actually giggled, hysterics which you heard. That frightened me more than anything we’ve faced on this damned adventure.”

“Help? But the Qunari overran Alam, and we certainly couldn’t go to the Fog Warriors. Where on earth was Zevran proposing to take me? Not that I would have -” He broke off before he could add “survived”; Invictus looked unhappy enough as it was. “- been too happy at being separated from you two,” he finished.

“Don’t ask, it’s better for you not to know. I don’t want to revisit that meltdown either. Let’s just get back to camp and go to sleep; the sooner we all rest up, the sooner we can get up and get the entire fuck away from here,” Vic replied softly, aware they were almost to camp and easily overheard.

Something Invictus had said finally sank in and Anders stumbled to a halt. “Wait. Fenris ranted at Zevran until he went into shock? _Zevran_?” He stared at Invictus with an expression of disbelief. “Zevran’s a Crow - or was. I don’t think anything short of an archdemon could make him lose his composure. He was in _shock?_ ”

“Yep, if I hadn’t seen it myself I might not have believed it either. I didn’t ask whose or what blood Fenris was covered in when he got back. He just went straight to the water to clean up. More like he shook Zevran like a rag doll while he screamed, but still it was worrisome.” Vic shrugged as he slowed down so they could finish speaking.

“But... Zevran seems fine now....” Anders faltered. He blinked. A fragment of memory was dancing tantalisingly just on the edge of recall; he put a hand to his head. Invictus’ mention of Zevran being shaken like a rag doll had sparked a feeling of recognition. Had he witnessed this in one of his brief conscious, yet delirious phases? 

He blinked. For a moment he thought he’d heard a faint whisper; a high-pitched laugh, a voice remarking _”...most exquisite agony....”_. He saw an image in his mind’s eye; a blooded sword thrown down upon the sand, bloody footprints leading to the water’s edge. He’d thought it part of his fever dreams.

He shuddered. “I’m glad I wasn’t aware of it. It sounds terrifying.”

“It was, trust me.” Vic kissed him again and smiled. “It’s done and over love, let’s get you in bed and tucked in.” 

Anders nodded and turned towards the cave once more. As they entered and headed towards Anders’ bed, he couldn’t help staring at Zevran who was sat cross-legged by the fire, polishing one of his blades with an air of unconcern. He certainly didn’t look like someone who had been shaken in a rage by a furious elf only a few days before, to the point of shock.

Zevran sensed eyes upon him and looked up, smiling at Anders and Invictus before returning to the work of caring for his blade. 

Anders let Invictus steer him back to his bed and sank down upon it gratefully, his eyes wandering over to Fenris himself who lay on his side on his bedroll with his back to the fire, face turned away from them. He shook his head slowly then looked up at Invictus.

“The sooner we’re away from here the better,” he breathed softly.

“I know love, believe me I know. Come on, let’s go to bed. We’ve got some travel ahead of us tomorrow.” Vic curled up with the blond, asleep almost as soon as his head hit the makeshift pillow.


	30. Chapter 30

All seemed to go well at first. Zevran and Fenris had gone hunting early the next morning for enough birds to cook and store for the journey across the strait. Isabela had taken Nakusa with her to the beach to check how the pinnace had fared through the storms, set it to rights and ready it for launch if possible. That left Anders and Invictus to brew up a supply of anti-emetics and seasickness potions. The work went fairly fast with the two mages able to share the work between them; Invictus found that recent events had given him more than adequate incentive to be a diligent pupil, and Anders was a patient teacher as he directed the other mage. Invictus in turn kept a close eye on Anders, calling a halt when it was obvious the blond apostate’s energy was flagging and sending him back to his bed to rest whilst Invictus watched the brewing potions.

Fenris and Zevran had success in their hunt; after preparing the birds and leaving them to roast under Invictus’ watchful eye, they had gone to the beach and helped the other two to launch the pinnace; beyond some scuffed paintwork and a couple of ropes that needed splicing, she was remarkably unscathed from the inclement weather.

It was the morning of the next day when they cast off with the early morning tide. Anders was settled in a nest of blankets under the awning, and as seasickness got the better of Fenris the elven warrior retreated there for a time as well until the potions the two mages had brewed had had a chance to work. Isabela took Nakusa under her wing immediately they reached the open sea and a fair wind, and under her tutorage he swiftly proved a far more able seaman than his unfortunate brother.

It seemed all augered well for their return home. Perhaps too well; on the second day out from Seheron, their fortunes changed for the worse and they were caught upon the open sea by a fierce squall. Their only warning was a sudden dead calm as black clouds roiled up upon the horizon; and then suddenly the storm was upon them, the wind whipping the sea into spray and foam as the rain lashed down that one could not tell sea from sky.

They could only hold on tight to each other and to the timbers of the small vessel and pray.

Perhaps some god heard them; for after long hours in which they were certain they faced death in the face, they were spat out from the storm onto a calm sea. The mast and both sails were gone, the tiller smashed and useless, the awning ripped away. They were adrift and rudderless, with little food and even less water, without shelter under a blazing sun. It seemed they had escaped death by drowning only to face a more lingering, painful death upon the open sea.

Unsurprisingly, it was Anders who slipped into unconsciousness first, weakened by his recent illness and not entirely recovered. He drifted to sleep at some point on the afternoon of the third day and could not be roused but lay like one dead. Fenris followed soon after, his bodily reserves depleted by his seasickness. Isabela and Nakusa followed soon after. The Antivan Crow proved remarkably resilient, as did Invictus, but on the morning of the fifth day Zevran, too, began to succumb to the heat and lack of water, their last meagre drops having been drunk the previous evening.

When Invictus saw the distant sails of the Rivaini merchant bearing down upon them, he was certain it was a hallucination - some final cruel jest of a Maker who cared nothing for His abandoned creations, sent to torment him in his last dying moments. It was only when they awoke some time later in a small but clean cabin, equipped with a few bunks for those few travellers that occasionally took sail with the company on one trip or another, that they finally realised that they had survived after all. Against all odds, their pinnace had been spied by the crew of a Rivaini merchant but lately sailed out of Qarinus and bound back to her home port in Rivain.

Invictus left it to Zevran and Isabela to deal with the captain of the ship and negotiate passage for them as far as the first port in Rivain they came to; he was content to keep to the cabin with his loves, nursing Anders and a very seasick Fenris. When Fenris proclaimed yet again that he would never set foot on a ship ever again so long as he lived, Invictus frankly agreed with him.

From Rivain they travelled overland to Antiva, and thence down to the Free Marches.

It was early Autumn when they finally reined their horses to a halt high on a pass through the Vinmark Mountains and saw the walls of Kirkwall far in the distance, perhaps two days’ ride away, and knew they were home.

Fenris grinned as he saw the familiar city walls, a true smile for the first time in ages. “So close...just two days at most.” 

Invictus was bolstered by the change in his lover, and spurred his horse on towards home, good food, soft beds and good wine.

Anders leaned on the saddlehorn of his horse and watched the other mage gallop on ahead with a tired smile. He was still pale and wan, his strength not fully regained after his close brush with death, but he was heartily glad to see the walls of the city that had become home in a way no other place had since he’d left the Wardens years before. He straightened and kicked his horse on into a trot, following after Invictus at a pace less likely to result in a broken neck should his horse stumble on a pothole.

“Can we make it by nightfall?” Fenris asked hopefully.

Zevran laughed. “I share your eagerness, _carissimi_ , but we must be patient, no? It would not do to kill our horses - Anders, at least, still has need of a ride and, I think, rest soon. We should make camp in an hour or two - we should reach Kirkwall by afternoon tomorrow, all being well.”

“But we’re so close,” Fenris whined.

“Love, if we try to run these horses down the path in the dark, we’ll all wind up in a ditch and injured. A few more hours and we’ll be home. I want it as bad as you do, trust me,” Vic said as he slowed down to lead his horse towards a cave and shelter.

“Fine… if you say so.” Fenris huffed as he fell quiet and rode alongside his other mage.

Anders ducked his head, grimacing at the reminder from Zevran that he was still not fully recovered. He guided his mare after Invictus, his eyes on the dusty road as he rode alongside Fenris. The elf had mastered riding fairly quickly as they passed through Antiva, though he still complained that walking would be more comfortable than riding each evening. Still, all their spirits were lifted at the thought that soon they could put these long months of travel behind them. Anders privately wondered if riding horses would be added to sailing ships on the slowly growing list of things Fenris would never do again.

Anders turned to say something reassuring and cheering but was suddenly taken by another coughing fit. He frowned as he fought for breath; the cough had lingered all through their journey, long after he had otherwise regained his health. Perhaps once he’d had a chance to actually rest and recover his strength properly the cough would also go; he hoped so. 

“I’m alright,” he said, feeling Fenris’ eyes on him as he sipped water from his canteen. “Just this dusty road.”

“Soon love, soon we’ll be home,” Fenris said wistfully.

Vic had found a cave to settle in for their last time camping before getting back home to Kirkwall. He tied his horse off and sat down with a groan. “If I never ride a horse again, it will be too soon.”

Zevran groaned as Isabela held out a hand with a smug grin. He reached inside his tunic and tossed a small pouch to the Rivaini pirate who tucked it into the ample bosom of her corset. “Well played,” he said with a rueful grin. “I was certain it would be Fenris.”

Fenris fell over next to Invictus more than sat down once he was off his horse. “Can I just walk home, make sure dinner is waiting?” he mumbled tiredly.

“Love, if you have the energy to walk the rest of the way I’ll be a nug’s uncle,” Vic said with a laugh.

Anders reined his horse in beside the entrance to the cave and sat there for a moment, gathering the energy needed to dismount before he slowly swung himself out of the saddle. He held onto the stirrup and leaned against the flank of his horse for a moment; the mare, used to him after long weeks on the road, stood patiently. She nuzzled him and whickered softly, and finally Anders stroked her nose as he straightened and unbuckled his staff from the saddle.

“I’m alright, girl,” he said quietly. He stood by her head, stroking her slowly for a little while. “I’m going to miss you, girl,” he told her. “I wish I could keep you, but Darktown’s no place for a horse, and I can barely afford to feed myself most days, let alone a horse. And Hawke doesn’t have a stable I could put you in. I’m sure Varric will see you’re sold to a good owner though. One who lets you eat all the grass and hay you could want, hmm?”

The horse blew softly through her nostrils then lowered her head to start cropping what little grass grew around the cave. Anders unbuckled her saddle and started to rub her down.

“Let me do that, friend Anders; it has been a long ride and you should rest, no?” suggested Zevran as he appeared at Anders’ elbow. Anders shook his head stubbornly. 

“No. I want to do this myself, one last time,” he said quietly but firmly.

“As you wish,” answered the former Crow. “I shall take your pack inside. Join us when you are ready, but do not be too long, my friend.”

“I’ll be there soon,” Anders answered as he turned back to the horse.

By the time he had finished and joined the others inside the cave, a fire was lit and Zevran had set out his bedroll, blanket and pillow near the fire. Anders made straight for it and lay down, tired but at peace.

“Maybe we can find a space for them, never know when a horse might be needed,” Vic said as he sat by the fire and carded his fingers through Fenris’ hair. The elf had given up on his hair and let Zevran braid it as they traveled, and it was almost down his back, brushing his shoulders when loose and perpetually in his eyes if not tied back. 

“Wonder if he’ll cut it soon as he can or leave it for awhile?” Vic wondered idly as Fenris sat almost dozing before him, his earlier suggestion of walking on to Kirkwall having been pure bravado; they had ridden long and hard that day, knowing how close they must be to the city they all called home.

Anders shrugged from his place by the fire, then tugged his own ponytail forward over his shoulder. It wasn’t as long as it had been during his time in the Wardens, but it was long enough that loose, it brushed his shoulders now. “Not cutting mine,” he said quietly. “Not yet, anyway.”

He would probably have to eventually; too many Fereldens coming through Kirkwall daily, and a blond apostate with long hair would stand out. Sooner or later someone might put two and two together and connect him with rumours of a certain missing apostate back at the Keep and a rumoured slaughter of Warden templars; safer to keep it hacked short. But he planned to enjoy it - for a little while, at least.

“He’s so fussy about certain things, just don’t know if he’ll want it gone as soon as he gets a hot bath.” Vic stretched out and sighed. “This time tomorrow we’ll be home. I just hope my letter to Varric made it and no one thinks we’re all imposters or dead.”

Anders dropped his ponytail and stared into the fire; he was already supposed to be dead, and beyond his healing abilities he doubted many would have missed him in Darktown. He wondered if anyone had moved into his clinic in his absence. He hoped not, but ownership of shelter in the shanty town was limited purely to occupation, and not always that either.

“I hope no-one’s got my old rooms at the Hanged Man,” mused Isabela. “Or I may have to object.” Her grin left them in no doubt that her objection would be wielded on the point of a blade if necessary.

“I’m sure Varric has cleared them out if he got my notes,” Vic said quietly. They’d come to an odd accord during their travels, but the Champion wasn’t sure he’d make it once Isabela was back to herself.

“What of you, friend Nakusa?” asked Zevran. “What plans do you have for Kirkwall?”

“I... have not thought on it much,” the scarred elf said slowly. He stared at the fire.

“You’re welcome to come bunk at the Hanged Man if you like,” said Isabela. “Could be pretty crowded up at Hawke’s place; there’s always an open berth any time you need a little peace and quiet.” She winked at Zevran then glanced pointedly at Fenris, then Invictus and finally Anders.

“Easy, Fenris,” said Anders quietly without even looking at the white-haired elf.

“My brother remains with me, period,” the elven warrior said tersely.

Undeterred, Isabela shrugged with an easy smile. “Offer’s there,” she told Nakusa.

Zevran started to prepare their evening meal. Anders sat up to help him, and they worked in companionable silence. Anders was uncharacteristically quiet for once, and Zevran was content to respect his silence.

Fenris sat with Nakusa, speaking quietly as the younger elf caught his sibling up on their lives, people he’d meet, when he was ready. He was finally excited about something besides getting back to the estate. He had family again and it had sunk in that Nakusa was with him to stay.

Isabela leaned back against the cave wall, idly whittling away at a small piece of wood. She seemed to have gradually accrued what seemed to be at least half of Zevran’s collection of blades during their travel, and her shorn hair had grown out a little to a mass of glossy black curls even as she’d put on weight and muscle once more. She still didn’t look quite like the Rivaini pirate Invictus had handed over to the Arishok, but she was undoubtedly recovering well from her two years of captivity in Qunari hands. 

She and Zevran had sparred often on the journey home, and it was almost unnerving how swiftly her lethal grace and skill had returned, though it seemed Zevran were still her superior in skill - if only just. Invictus would not have liked to have laid odds on either if it ever came to a serious contest of skill or a more lethal fight between them.

Fenris grumbled as he felt the thick braid brush against his shoulders. “This is driving me crazy. I’m tempted to hack it all off.”

Zevran reached to the back of his belt and drew a slender skinning knife from the sheath at the small of his back and tossed it across the cave to fetch up, hilt first, by Fenris’ foot without looking up from the cooked haunch of venison he was carving up for stew. He carried on with the task at hand without a word.

Fenris glanced down at the knife, then at Zevran. “I’ll wait until I can wash it. I’m just frustrated with being so close cariad.” He returned the knife with more care than Zevran had pitched it to him.

“It’s nice like that love, is it too long?” Vic asked as he beckoned the elf over so he could unbraid it and comb through it with his fingers; more as an excuse to touch his lover than anything else.

Zevran picked up the blade and made to sheath it.

“Ooh, I haven’t seen that one before, Zev!” exclaimed Isabela, sitting forward interestedly. Zevran merely smiled and threw it to her underhand; she caught it and inspected the blade with fascination. “Mmm, nice work. Nevarran?”

“Just so,” he nodded. “And no, you may not have it. I will buy you one of your own when we reach Kirkwall, yes? I know a most excellent merchant in the Lowtown market.”

Isabela pouted and threw it back, the blade whipping straight for Zevran’s head. Zevran caught it by the hilt without looking up from his task, twirling it once in his deft fingers before sheathing it. Isabela merely grinned and sat back to return to her whittling. This was become an old game between them over the campfire of an evening. From the uneasy look Anders shot her, it seemed he was none too comfortable to be in the vicinity of airborne weaponry; he picked up the bowl of dough he was mixing and shifted a little around the fire towards Invictus.

Fenris didn’t say anything but he glared at them both for being so carefree with sharp things. “I’m going to sleep for a week after I drink all the red wine in our cellar,” he murmured.

“I’ll be right next to you after I have half a boar for dinner,” Vic said as he worked to untangle a knot he came across. He stopped at a low hiss from his lover and tried to be gentler.

Anders sighed quietly. “Nakusa, could you finish this dough? It just needs kneading then shaping into flat cakes.” He pulled his fingers from the bowl, reaching for a damp rag to clean the flour from his hands before moving closer to Invictus and Fenris. “Come here, love; I’ve more experience with long hair like yours.”

“Alright.” Fenris pressed a gentle kiss to Vic’s palm before he scooted over to Anders. “Gentle, please.”

Anders said nothing, merely setting to work, his slender fingers swiftly finding the snarled knot then deftly yet gently unpicking it, his touch so light that Fenris was barely aware of it. He pulled a small ivory comb out of a pouch then set to work untangling and taming Fenris’ wild mop of unruly white hair until it was smooth, sleek and tidy before he braided it once more to keep it out of the elf’s face. He hummed quietly to himself as he worked.

“Better, love?” he asked softly.

Fenris tugged him down for a brief kiss and a word of thanks. “Yeah, much better, thank you.”

“Long practice,” replied Anders with a shrug. “You should have seen how long my hair got back when I was in the Circle.” He returned the kiss and wrapped his arms around the elf. 

“Once I don’t feel like I could sleep for a week, I’m going to nail you like a carpenter,” Fenris whispered in his ear.

“Once I’ve slept for a week I’m going to hold you to that,” Anders whispered back. “And I haven’t forgotten I owe Hawke the topping of his life. I seem to recall I said I was going to be the toppiest bastard ever and I intend to live up to that.”

“I can’t wait for it love,” Vic said with a dirty grin. “First you need to heal up.” 

Anders made a faint noise of frustration then buried his face against the side of Fenris’ neck.

“Don’t worry, you’re almost back to full health. A hot bath, a couple full meals and you’ll be fine, right Vic?” Fenris said with a glance at their lover.

“Yep, perfect. If we had any privacy I’d let you do as you wanted right now, long as you wanted to be blunt.” Vic purred in Anders ear.

Anders’ face was hidden against the side of Fenris’ neck still, so they couldn’t see his expression, but he went very still and his sharp indrawn breath was clearly audible to them both, though only Fenris’ sharp ears caught the very faint whine of “Oh sweet Maker,” that echoed after.

“You won’t be calling the Maker when we’re taking you, that’s for damned sure,” Fenris rasped against his cheek. “It’s been too long since I’ve had you love, under me, those pretty amber eyes blown wide for me, nails down my back...I intend to remedy that as soon as I can.” The elf even nipped at the tip of Anders’ ear to show where his mind was.

Anders made a faint choking sound. “I... I’m almost tempted to ask you to drag me outside and show me,” he whispered faintly.

“I forget how much of an exhibitionist you can be. I’m so tempted, so very, very tempted believe me.” Fenris purred in his ear.

“Oh just do it, you both look about a moment from giving us a floor show anyway,” Vic said with a wicked smile.

“You’re both going to be the death of me, I swear,” breathed Anders, his eyes closed. “Maker, I....” He whimpered softly.

“Just Fenris will do, unless you want to add blasphemy to your list of sins, Anders.” The elf tilted his head so he could kiss him and ask if he meant what he’d said because he was rapidly veering towards granting the mage’s request. It had been almost two, no three months since he’d had Anders, too long to go with no more than kisses and an occasional quick hand job when they could be alone for a few stolen moments.

“Maker’s breath, just go already. I’ll try to keep them from following,” Vic said as he flopped next to Zevran, and chuckled at Nakusa’s gobsmacked expression at the change in his sibling.

“What _are_ you two doing to poor Anders?” exclaimed Isabela with a grin. “He looks about ready to expire on the spot!”

Anders merely groaned and buried his face against Fenris’ shoulder. “Kill me now,” he groaned, his voice muffled. “No, wait - kill me after, I may as well die with a smile on my face.”

“Just giving him something to look forward to once we’re home. I think Fenris is impatient and might just drag him off now,” Vic laughed.

“No killing, want to hear you beg me...ask, plead,” Fenris whispered in Tevene, his eyes dark with want.

“I think I’ll die just the same,” breathed Anders. He straightened slowly and ran a shaking hand over his hair, brushing stray strands out of his face as he took a deep breath. 

“I... I need some air,” he said shakily as he got to his feet and headed for the cave exit, grabbing his staff as he passed.

Fenris blinked, then seemed to realize Anders had dashed off after his teasing. “Shit...not what I was aiming for.” 

“Go on love, we’ll be here.” Vic waved him off with a smile he hoped wasn’t too shaky.

“Fenris,” said Isabela as the elf leapt to his feet. Though her eyes were still bright with laughter, her expression was more thoughtful and sympathetic as she cocked her head to one side. “Go easy on him, please? I don’t think he’s as strong as you think. Just take it easy.” She gave him a brief wink then glanced back down at her whittling.

The warrior dashed out and luckily for him, Anders hadn’t gone far.

“Anders, please...I didn’t mean to push you like that. Come back,” Fenris said quietly, afraid he’d gone too far.

Anders was standing with his back to the cave, one hand braced against the cliff wall. He glanced back over his shoulder, and gave Fenris a wistful smile.

“I want to. I really do. I _want_ you to take me. I just... I just don’t think I can, yet.” He leaned against the stone and regarded the elf sadly. “I’d say consequences be damned and do it anyway, but....” His gaze dropped to the ground.

Fenris approached carefully and wrapped his arms around the mage with a sigh. “I’m sorry, I got carried away, especially in front of the others. I just miss you, miss all of you. This trip has done things to me and none of them good I fear. Forgive me for embarrassing you?” 

“You didn’t embarrass me love, far from it,” replied Anders as he returned the embrace. “I’m embarrassed and frustrated by my own weakness. I fear none of us have returned unscathed from this trip.”

“Still, I know better; I should not have behaved like that. Come back with me, and maybe lie with me and Vic for a while?” Fenris asked as he leaned up to press more kisses to his mage’s neckline.

Anders whimpered and clung to Fenris, his eyes closed. “So very tempted to beg you to throw me down and take me anyway, and to the Void with the consequences,” he whispered.

“No, not going to do that because it will make it harder to enjoy it. I want it, so bad but I can hold out till we’re home, fed and bathed. I’ll make it worth the wait, believe me beloved,” Fenris whispered as he gave one last kiss to his mage and stepped back before he lost his resolve.

Anders’ answering groan was equal parts longing and frustration. “You’d better,” he said without heat. “Come on, or the others will assume you’re shagging me senseless out here anyway.” He sighed.

“If you’re this quiet and I’m shagging you senseless I’ve lost my touch.” Fenris took his hand tight in his as he led them back.

“Oh, not at all,” said Anders. “Obviously I’m gagged and you’re having your wicked way with me bound and helpless and....” He stumbled to a halt and groaned. “Maker, I’m making this _worse_....” 

“Save that for once we’re home. I’ll keep you quiet with my cock down your throat, while you let Vic ride you,” Fenris growled.

Anders stared at Fenris, his gaze intense, and then dropped to his knees as though his legs had suddenly lost all strength. He reached for the fastenings of Fenris’ pants with trembling hands.

“No, no Anders. As much as I want you do that, Maker do I want it, I want to wait until we’re home, in our bed.” Fenris took his hands gently in his and tugged him to his feet. “I love you so much, but just a few more hours love, please?”

Anders let himself be pulled to his feet, stumbling a little before catching himself. He bent and retrieved his staff, then sighed and nodded. “You’re right,” he conceded.

“Not like I want to be. Believe me, love.” Fenris walked them back, his mood still good but his expression a bit tense. 

All eyes turned to stare at them as they entered, and a split second later Isabela groaned. 

“Pay up,” said Zevran as he went back to stirring the pot. “We are now even I think?”

Isabela tossed a small pouch across to the Antivan. “You couldn’t at least have mussed his hair a little?” she groused good-naturedly under her breath.

Fenris’ eyebrows drew down in a scowl as he realized what they were up to. “You were betting on us?” he snapped.

Nakusa blinked. “But... they did not say a word to each other!” he protested. 

“They don’t have to, they’ve known each other that long,” Fenris said testily.

“I... can’t say I entirely blame them,” said Anders ruefully. He glanced at Zevran. “How did you know we-”

Zevran chuckled. “For Isabela it was only wishful thinking, I think. For myself?” He shrugged. “I am a man, and sometimes a man just knows, no?”

Fenris made a disgusted noise before he wandered over to the fire to check on dinner. Invictus handed him a leaf full of food and a canteen without a smirk to his credit.

Anders lowered himself down to sit cross-legged on his bedroll as Zevran passed food to him, then began to eat slowly, a faint blush still lingering on his face. He was well aware Isabela was watching him with something akin to disgruntled amusement; after a few bites he lifted his head to stare at her as he reached up behind his head to tug the leather tie free before running his hand through his hair and deliberately mussing it. He stared at her through the dishevelled strands and raised an eyebrow at her. 

“Happy now?” 

He went back to his food and ignored her for the rest of the evening, even as Zevran teased her with a string of fluent Rivaini far too fast for any of the others to catch. Whatever Isabela said in return was evidently an epithet of some sort, though her tone was good-natured.

Nakusa watched them all, certain he was missing something and completely bemused.

Fenris stretched out with his head in Invictus’ lap, and his feet in Anders’, content that he was close to home. He waved Zevran over to join them if he wanted.

Zevran got to his feet and stretched, his spine popping as he arched over slowly. As he straightened, he paused, noticing how Isabela was eyeing him. He tilted his head slightly then lifted one eyebrow, and Isabela got to her feet.

“Thought you’d never ask,” she muttered as she grabbed a blanket then headed towards the exit and left the cave. 

Zevran smiled faintly, then glanced down to Fenris.

“Tomorrow you may have my undivided attention however you wish, _carissimi_ , if you will indulge me this tonight?” he asked quietly in Tevene.

“As you wish, just… go far enough so I do not hear you, if you can.” Fenris replied before he let his eyes drift closed.

“But of course, _carissimi_ ,” replied Zevran with a small bow. He nodded to Invictus and Anders, then followed Isabela from the cave.

“Well,” said Anders. “She _has_ had two dry years. I can hardly blame her.” He glanced away.

“I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner to be honest, or maybe it has and I missed it,” Fenris murmured.

“I doubt they could have been that discreet during our time traveling love,” Vic said as he reached down to scratch at the elf’s head and ears. 

Across the fire, Nakusa had curled up in his blanket already, only a tuft of white-streaked red hair poking out from the wool. As Anders sat gazing into the fire, his stomach full and the cave comfortably warm, he found himself starting to flag a little and he slumped a little, slowly drifting into a half-doze.

Fenris had dropped off by the time the others had started to doze. Invictus was still awake, too wound up about getting home the next day, and since everyone else had begun to doze he figured he’d take watch.

Anders’ head had been steadily drooping lower and lower as he dozed, still sitting there; he began to slump slightly sideways then suddenly jerked upright, blinking in confusion. He looked around the cave then down at Fenris’ feet in his lap as if confused as to how they had gotten there. He carefully lifted Fenris’ feet up and to the side, then pulled a small pillow from his pack. Clutching it to his chest he curled up and laid his head upon his pack and closed his eyes again; a few moments later he began to snore wheezily.

Vic leaned back against the cave and smiled, happy to have his makeshift family together and close to home.

It was perhaps an hour later, the moon high in the sky, when Zevran and Isabela reappeared, their hair and clothes dishevelled. Isabela gave Invictus a knowing grin as she wrapped herself up in her blanket, and then she turned her back to him.

Zevran dropped down to sit next to Invictus as he tugged his tunic straight then started to fingercomb his blond locks.

“The night is fine and quite warm for so late in the season,” he remarked quietly. “A night for lovers and understandings, hmm?”

“Yes, yes it is. Feeling better?” Vic asked quietly so he did not wake his lovers.

Zevran tilted his head a little to one side as he considered the question. “Perhaps,” he said quietly. He pulled a dagger from his belt, inspected his nails and then began cleaning them with the tip of the dagger, a thoughtful expression upon his face. 

“Perhaps?” Vic asked.

Zevran laid the dagger down and was silent a moment. “Isabela and I have reached an... accord. She will not seek retribution from you for her captivity.”

“Hmm, what miracle of Andraste did you have to perform for that to happen?” Vic asked in surprise.

Zevran stared at the dying embers of the fire. “She owes me a favour. We have discussed... _terms_... for its repayment. Your debt to me is paid in full. And now so is hers - or will be, after tomorrow.”

“What do you mean, what did you agree to Zev?” Vic asked with a telling glance down at Fenris.

“That would be between Isabela and I, yes?” The Antivan elf gave Invictus a maddening smile. “You need only know that you are a free man, Invictus Hawke.”

“Not if it means you’ll break his heart. I let you in, I let you and Fenris have whatever it is you have, and if you hurt him I’ll fucking break you.” Vic hissed.

Zevran smiled faintly. “I do not think it will come to that, friend Invictus. Take comfort in the knowledge that Isabela will not trouble you again - and that I have not survived this long by being a foolish man.”

He took up the dagger and started to clean his nails out again. “Go, sleep, I will keep watch. We still have a way to travel tomorrow before we pass the gates of the city.”

The former Crow would not be drawn further; in the end, Invictus gave up trying and rolled himself up in his blanket next to Fenris. Sleep was long in coming; his mind chased in circles, trying to fathom just what the nature of the accord between Zevran and the Rivaini woman must be, and fearing the price her terms might exact from Zevran - and, in turn, from Fenris.

He closed his eyes, now almost dreading what the morrow would bring.


	31. Chapter 31

They all awoke early the next morning, and the cave was filled with an expectant air of excitement and anticipation. They still had several hours’ of travel to go, but by evening they would be back within the walls of Kirkwall itself, the journey of the past few months relegated to memory.

They broke camp swiftly; almost by unspoken agreement, it seemed, all opted for cold rations on horseback to break their fast rather than waste a single moment longer sitting around the campfire.

Fenris nearly vibrated in anticipation of being home again, his attention was solely on the city walls he could see as they moved forward. He actually smiled and joked with his lovers, truly happy to be back.

Nakusa was relieved to see his brother so cheerful, and even joined in his sibling’s teasing and jokes when he felt it right to do so.

Zevran hung back and rode alongside Isabela, the two chatting softly in Rivaini together. Anders rode beside Invictus just in front of them; Fenris, eager to be home, had taken the led with Nakusa.

Anders smiled at Invictus. “You’re quiet, love,” he said. “Thinking of home?”

“Yeah, just really looking forward to being back.” Vic said with a tired smile. He was glad to see them all in better spirits, he wasn’t looking forward to whatever Zevran had agreed to.

“You seem tired. Too excited to sleep last night?” Anders teased him. “Never mind, tonight we’ll all be sleeping in our own beds! Well, bed,” he amended, glancing forward to Fenris and then blushing as he ducked his head.

“Yeah, I slept but it wasn’t well. Sorry to be so out of it, especially when we’re so close.” Vic apologized as he sat up a bit straighter, and tried to give Anders a reason to not doubt him.

Fenris was oblivious to them, happy to lead them back while he pointed things out to his brother as they got closer to the city gates.

“Lady won’t be a kitten any more,” mused Anders. “She’ll have grown quite a bit.” He smiled fondly. “Maker, I’ve missed her.” He glanced at Invictus. “Bet Malum will be excited to see you as well. I guess you’d best go in the door first - he’d knock me over.” He grinned.

Vic’s smile faltered a bit, he’d thought of Malum but hadn’t let the mabari fill his thoughts until Anders mentioned him. “Yeah, my obnoxious pup.” his voice waivered as he thought of how the wardog probably waited by the door for him night after night, whined when he didn’t arrive and how he’d get bowled over when they walked in.

Anders reached across and laid a hand over that of Invictus as he held the reins, and gave it a squeeze, his expression sympathetic. “I know,” he said softly. “But you’ll see him soon.”

“Yeah, I know. He might give me a bath of his own before I can get from under him.” Vic’s laugh was a little watery but he held back any tears that threatened. “Let’s catch up with Fenris before he’s the one Malum bowls over.”

Anders snorted. “As long as it’s not Nakusa!” He glanced back to the two rogues. “Or Zevran - though I imagine he’s got the reflexes to dodge.” He grinned.

“He’d be fine. I’d worry that Nakusa would shank him out of reaction to being knocked over. It’s good to see everyone in a better mood, I don’t think I’ve seen Fenris smile this much in ages.” Vic replied with a nod towards their elven lover.

“Nakusa doesn’t shank people, he.. sort of.. explodes them. Messily,” Anders added. “I think he could rival Fenris for sheer pants-wetting terror-causing capability.”

Nakusa glanced back at mention of his name and then grinned at Anders.

“Not helping, Nakusa!” remarked, but the grin on his face belied his words.

“I am going to have so much fun with this.” Fenris said gleefully as he turned and gave them both a mischievous,toothy grin.

“Oh, hey, no fair - no ganging up on the poor apostate here!” protested Anders. “There’s two of you!”

“We know Anders, well do we know it.” Fenris waggled his fingers at the blond and turned back to the road, his laugh full and rich instead of that manic giggle he’d started to have back on Seheron.

“I’m feeling most put-upon,” said Anders with a small pout. “You hear that, Hawke? I do believe our boyfriend is threatening all sorts of dire things at me there. I shall have to be on my guard.”

Invictus couldn’t help chuckling. “Never mind, you can always hide behind me, love,” he grinned.

“That won’t save you.” Fenris said with a devious expression. He felt playful for a change, and hoped Anders realized that instead of how ominous it might have sounded to the others.

Anders stared at Fenris, his eyes widening. “Hawke, our boyfriend is most definitely threatening me! Aren’t you going to defend me?” he squeaked. The twinkle in his amber eyes and the casual way he guided his horse with his knees, for the most part ignoring the reins, gave away his lack of any real concern that he might be in any imminent danger from either the elf or his brother however.

“Hawke, you wouldn’t dare interfere in my fun would you?” Fenris threw over his shoulder, with a conspiratorial wink to his sibling. 

Anders glanced at Invictus with a “well what do you say to that?” look and lifted an eyebrow.

“I know my place, you two work that out when we get home.” Vic said before he kicked his horse into a faster trot, his own eagerness to be back spurred on by his lovers mood.

“Oh, I see how it is!” exclaimed Anders as Invictus’ horse began to move passed him. “Right. Fine. Do your worst, Fenris - but you’ll have to catch me first!” he added with a grin as he suddenly kicked his horse forwards and sped past first Invictus, then the two elves, crouching low over his horse’s mane as he spurred the mare on into a gallop without a backwards glance. His whoop of laughter echoed off the rock walls of the gully and floated back to them.

“Cheater!” Fenris called out as he glared at the mage and horse as they flew from sight. 

“It is not cheating if it is skill, _carissimi_ ,” chuckled Zevran as he spurred his horse forward a little to draw level with Fenris. “Now, if you were to use your abilities to, say, appear behind him on his horse? _That_ would be cheating, no?” He winked.

“Yes but I don’t want to startle him and make him fall off and take me with him.” Fenris said as he tried to keep up with Zevran and yell loud enough to be heard.

“Then there is an answer, my friend!” laughed Zevran as he swung his horse up so close to Fenris’ mount that his foot touched Fenris’ in the stirrup as he held out his hand to the elf. “Shall we ride?” His golden eyes dared Fenris to refuse.

“Nakusa, take my ride.” Fenris tossed the reins to his sibling then joined Zevran with a nip to his ears. “You all play dirty, I swear to the Maker.”

The moment Fenris was astride Zevran’s black steed the Antivan set his heels to the stallion’s flanks and instantly it surged forward. The walls of the gully flew by, the horse’s steel-shod hooves a blur as they threw up dust behind them. Fenris could see Anders up ahead, his blond hair whipping wildly in the wind of his passage, but already Zevran was beginning to gain on him.

Anders glanced back briefly over his shoulder as he heard the thunder of the black stallion’s hooves then turned his attention back to the path as he urged the bay mare on faster. The black stallion was steadily decreasing the distance between them however; when Anders risked another glance back they could see his eyes widen in surprise at how small the distance between them had become.

“We will have him yet, _carissimi_!” laughed Zevran as he urged his mount on yet more swiftly.

Anders perhaps heard him, for he glanced back a third time. He nearly didn’t see the fallen tree that barred the way; he turned his attention back to the road just in time. He tightened his control on the reins, shortening his horse’s strides without checking her forward speed then touched his heels to her flanks. She soared gracefully over the tree trunk and raced on.

“Nicely done,” breathed Zevran. “See, Fenris - your lover has learned to fly! Hold on, and we too shall soar!”

“I’m going to spank him for this.” Fenris growled in his elven lover’s ear before he held tight and closed his eyes. He felt the black stallion gathering itself beneath them, and then they too sailed over the fallen tree.

“I don’t know if I should laugh or be concerned they are acting like teenagers,” Vic said as he followed at a less breakneck pace.

“Damn, I never knew Anders was that good a rider,” said Isabela admiringly. “Zev either. I’ve always done a rather different sort of riding with them.”

Invictus rolled his eyes at her but didn’t let the remark that came to mind fall from his tongue. Instead he spurred his horse on to catch up with Nakusa and help him keep Fenris’ mount in check.

Anders’ mare was beginning to flag; the blond apostate’s glances over his shoulder became more frequent as Zevran closed the gap between them until they were riding almost side by side.

“Now, _carissimi_ , perhaps it is time to show our apostate who is caught, hmm?” Zevran called over his shoulder.

“Terrible, but I adore you for it,” Fenris replied before he jumped over to slide behind his lover. “I caught you, and you will pay for making me chase you, my heart,” he panted in Anders’ ear.

Zevran leaned forward and caught the reins of Anders’ mare as Anders exclaimed in surprise, his hands dropping the reins to reach almost instinctively for Fenris’ hands as the elf clutched him around the waist. As Fenris slid one hand up to rest over Anders’ heart he could feel it racing.

“Maker, you startled me - I had no idea you were going to jump!” the mage exclaimed breathlessly.

Zevran reined both horses in, checking the headlong gallop back into a canter before slowing to a trot and then a walk. Both horses were blowing hard and lathered with sweat.

“Caught, and caught fairly, friend Anders,” said Zevran with a grin. “Perhaps it would be well to surrender.”

Anders lifted his hands in mute surrender. “Whatever will you do with me, ser Elf?” he murmured.

“Spank you until you beg for mercy, then I’ll figure out if I have any to give. I still owe you a pounding,” Fenris hissed in the mage’s ear. “The wait is driving me mad.”

“Well, I think we just halved the waiting time,” Anders panted. “Maker, I haven’t ridden like that in a long time.”

“Get used it to it, you’re going to ride that hard later,” Fenris huffed. “Sorry, I’m… worked up is all,” he amended as he let his forehead rest against his mage’s back.

“I’d never have guessed,” replied Anders drily.

“Mind yourself, before I lead these horses off and have my way anyway,” Fenris muttered tiredly. “If I had the energy right now, I would.”

Zevran glanced back up the trail; the others had not yet come into sight. “I think we have left our friends far behind. Perhaps you should take your chance?” He pulled a stamina potion out of his pouch and tossed it to Fenris with a wink. “Just a suggestion....”

Anders craned his neck to glance over his shoulder; he could feel his heart still racing. “Oh Maker. Not if you want there to be anything left of me by the time we get home! Zev, please, he doesn’t need encouraging!” He grinned.

The warrior caught it with his own wink and a grin. “I’ll keep this for later, I’ll make good use of it.” Fenris sighed as he gave Anders a brief squeeze around the middle. “I’ll make it so worth your while love,” he promised.

“I hope this condemned man gets a hearty meal before he dies with a smile,” sighed Anders.

“Ah, maybe you would not have had as much time as all that,” smiled Zevran. “I do believe our companions have finally made it into view at last.” He reined both horses in and glanced back up the trail.

“I’m not that fast.” Fenris muttered. 

Invictus let out a relieved noise when he saw the others just ahead of them. “I was worried we’d find them shagging in the road,” he muttered.

“I’m more surprised we didn’t find them all in the road with broken necks,” replied Nakusa wrily. “That fallen tree was not small, and that was a sharp bend just before it.”

“Anders is a better rider than we knew, he was fine and Zev is almost one with that beast,” Vic replied.

Nakusa shook his head. “Zevran may be, but my brother is not,” he said quietly.

“He’s safe with them, Zevran wouldn’t let him come to harm Nakusa,” Vic replied as they went, Isabela almost forgotten behind him.

“Anders must be feeling better if he’s pulling stunts like that,” remarked Isabela. “or just very, very eager. But then, aren’t we all?” She smiled as Invictus glanced back, reminded of her presence once more. “I hadn’t realised Zev was so eager as well; Kirkwall is hardly home to him. He must have become quite fond of it as well.” She smirked, then urged her horse into a trot passed them both.

“It’s who he’s fond of, not so much where,” Vic muttered.

By the time they’d finally caught up to the others, they had dismounted, the two horses cropping grass contentedly at the side of the road. Anders was sitting on a nearby rock, Fenris standing a little behind him with one hand on Anders’ shoulder, the other fisted in the blond hair as he tugged the mage’s head a little towards him, murmuring something in his ear. Zevran had his back to them, watching the horses.

Vic just smiled indulgently at them as he dismounted and let his horse wander over to the others to graze.

Fenris didn’t stop whispering all the filthy things he planned to do in the blond’s ear even as he saw Vic from the corner of his eye. He just smiled then went back to the very graphic detail of what he was going to do with his mages.

Anders opened his eyes as he heard Invictus dismount. “Hawke, our boyfriend is threatening some most disturbing things in my ear. I do hope you’re going to make sure he follows through with them.”

“Sure, soon as I’ve had a bath and meal. I plan to help him with those not so idle threats.” Vic replied.

“I think the horses are recovered enough to carry on - though let us not repeat that little race, I do not think they would forgive us,” said Zevran as he finally turned around. “We could make it to the city gate in perhaps an hour from here.”

“I thought this path looked familiar,” agreed Isabela. “Mind you, they all do around here.”

“An hour you say, perfect.” Fenris growled one final threat in his mage’s ear before he stepped away to mount his horse as Nakusa silently held out the reins. 

“I don’t know who’s going to knock me down first, Malum, Fenris or Anders at this rate.” Vic wondered aloud.

“Malum. But I think Fenris is going to be a close second,” replied Anders as he got to his feet, dusting off his pants before making his way over to his horse and swinging himself easily up into the saddle. The bay mare snorted. “Easy, girl, we’ll be there soon,” he told her.

Zevran was already mounted up, his stallion restless.

“Just wait until I get a damn drink and a bath, then you all can do as you please.” Invictus said as he followed suit and spurred his horse on towards home.

Just a little under an hour later they rode through the gate of the city to the familiar sounds and smells of Kirkwall.

“Never thought I’d say this, but I’ve missed this place,” sighed Anders. 

“I’m off to the Hanged Man,” declared Isabela. “I want to make sure my rooms are still there waiting for me - and evict any intruder if they aren’t,” she added with a grin. “Coming, Zev?”

Zevran glanced over to Fenris. “I think I shall go renew my acquaintance with the good Varric and assure him of your continued health, _carissimi_ ,” he said. “I dare say the three of you would like a little time alone to celebrate your homecoming, no?” He smiled.

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Zev,” Anders answered with a tired smile.

“Don’t be long, I wish to enjoy you before the wind or your next adventure takes you from me for who knows how long.” Fenris whispered in his ear before gave Zevran a parting kiss full of longing for the other elf.

Zevran smiled noncommittally, threading one hand into Fenris’ snowy white locks as he returned the kiss then pulled away with a nod to Isabela. Both dismounting, they led their horses away as they headed towards the docks and Lowtown.

“Maker, I am so looking forward to a hot bath and a meal,” groaned Anders.

Fenris’ expression dropped as Zevran and Isabela left them. “He kissed me like he wasn’t going to see me again,” he said with a glance to Invictus.

“Oh, you know Zevran - mind running on fifteen tracks at once,” replied Anders, already turning his bay mare towards Hightown. “I’m sure thoughts of you are in at least three of them.” He grinned back over his shoulder at Fenris.

The elven fighter scowled as he stared off in the distance for a hair longer before he turned to follow the others home. He knew something was wrong, but he’d wait until they were home to revisit it.

“Don’t worry about that love, he’s probably tired as we are and eager to get Isabela settled and back to you,” Vic said to his lover’s back.

Nakusa glanced in the direction Isabela and the Antivan had gone, then at his brother as he turned his horse a little to follow Anders but waited.

Fenris drew up next to his sibling, expression pensive as they traveled, mind on the blond elf and his friend.

On horseback it took very little time at all to reach Hightown even in spite of the throngs of people on Kirkwall’s streets. Anders frowned a little; there seemed if anything even more Fereldens than when they’d left, which was strange given that the Blight had ended years ago. He shrugged; Kirkwall was a fairly significant port and saw many passing through on their way elsewhere. 

They were on familiar roads now, and they all as one found themselves urging their horses on into a trot, eager to be home, and in no time at all it seemed they were dismounting before the Hawke mansion.

“After you, love,” Anders gestured to Invictus. “I have no wish to be flattened by Malum today!”

“Home...we’re finally home.” Hawke whispered before he opened the door just in time to be shoved back by a few stone of excited wardog. 

“Malum, my sweet boy, my sweet pup.” Vic laughed as he let the mabari flatten him to the rug and bounce around him in joy.

Fenris stepped around and headed to their room, his good mood dampened by worry about what Zevran was up to. He glanced back to Invictus and Anders before vaulting up the stairs two-at-a-time.

Something sleek, grey and furry streaked past his feet, nearly tripping him up; it didn’t pause, but raced down the stairs and across the foyer to hurl itself into Anders’ arms. The mage paused, and then gave a cry of joy. “Lady! Oh Maker, I’ve missed you so much! Look at you, all grown up - you’re not a kitten any more!” He grinned, then sniffed. “All grown up and I missed it.” He buried his face against her fur as Lady put her paws either side of his neck and rubbed her head against his cheek, purring loudly. Anders gave a muffled sniff.

Fenris didn’t stop until he was in the bathing chamber, hot water pumping and his armor hitting the floor so he could rinse off first. There was no furry beast to greet him, and if he was honest with himself, he wanted a little time alone to get himself together.

Invictus finally got Malum to let him up and to his feet. His first thought was the mabari needed some mint for his breath, the other was confusion about Fenris’ absence. “Did he go up already?”

Anders glanced up; his eyes were red-rimmed but the blond apostate was smiling. “Hmm? I guess he must have. he didn’t have a dog or cat to waylay him after all.” He looked down at Lady and smiled fondly. “And a very lovely waylaying it was too, my little Lady Whiskers Greymew!”

“He’s not alright, I thought he’d be excited to be home, animal reunions not withstanding.” Vic headed into the kitchen to snag a bottle of wine, and asked Bohdan to start a hot, hearty dinner for all of them before he headed up to join their lover in the bath. The dwarven seneschal was startled yet delighted to find his master, Fenris and Anders had returned, and as Invictus left the kitchen Sandal had begun capering around the kitchen whooping “Enchantment, enchantment!!” with glee.

Fenris had just sat up after a rinse of his hair, his expression guarded as he heard the chamber door open. “Vic, Anders?” 

Nakusa lingered in the doorway. “I... do not want to intrude, my brother, but... you do not seem happy for one who was looking forward to this homecoming for so long.”

“I am concerned over Zevran, he...kissed as one who expected never to return to me. Invictus and Anders do not take my concern seriously so I am just ...worried. I apologize brother.” Fenris grabbed a towel to dry off before he wrapped another around his waist so he could drain the tub for the others.

“Do you wish to bathe? Or would you like to see your room?” Fenris asked softly.

Nakusa regarded him with concern in his bright blue eyes. He tilted his head on one side. “Would it set your mind at rest if we went in search of him? I do not know this city, but you do. I will gladly go with you. I can wait a little longer to wash.”

“Take care of yourself, I need a little time to put on different armor and get my other weapon, the one I traveled with needs to go to a smith.” Fenris tugged his hair back into a haphazard ponytail to get out of his face.

Nakusa nodded and turned to stare at the bath with its dwarven plumbing, and stared at it perplexed.

Fenris rinsed the tub quickly, and started the taps going for his sibling. “When it’s half full, turn them off and get in. You can rinse off over there if you want so the water doesn’t need to be changed as soon as you get in.” 

Nakusa nodded slowly as he moved towards the bathtub, staring at the taps and the hot water issuing directly from one with clouds of steam in fascination.

“Be mindful of the water, it can get really hot.” Fenris cautioned before he slipped from the room.

Invictus was in their room, shaving at the small mirror and basin while Anders continued to carry Lady around and chat with her about their time away. 

“Nakusa will be done soon, if you are waiting on the bath,” the elven fighter said as he went for his spare armor.

Anders glanced up. “I bet the plumbing was an eye-opener for him,” he smiled. He glanced down at the grey tabby in his lap and tickled her under the chin as she purred. Anders sighed contentedly. “It’s so good to be home!” He pulled the leather tie from his hair then let himself fall backwards to sprawl on the bed. “I have been looking forward to this so, so much,” he groaned as the cat crept up from his lap to sit on his chest. She reached out to pat his face imperiously then headbutted his chin; he chuckled then obediently returned to stroking her.

“Love, why are you putting on armor? We finally got home, you’ve been griping about getting back for the last week and now you’re going to run right back out?” Vic asked as he watched Fenris buckle on his vambraces without so much as a glance up at him.

“Never you mind, I have something to do and Nakusa wanted to see the city for a bit. I won’t be long,” he replied, gaze firmly on his pauldrons and not on Invictus or Anders.

Anders glanced over and finally took in that Fenris was armour-clad. He set the cat aside and sat up slowly. “You’re expecting trouble,” he said quietly, the mirth gone from his voice. He patted Lady absently then got to his feet and reached for his staff. “Alright, I’m coming with you.”

“No, you are not. You will remain here, have dinner and take a nap, let Vic shag you stupid but you will not come with us. Am, I clear Anders?” Fenris asked as he snapped his scabbard on and pulled out the silverite and starmetal weapon Invictus had given him.

“As crystal. I’m still coming with you though,” said Anders firmly. “If you’re in armour, that means someone’s likely to get hurt. I’d rather that someone wasn’t you, love, and Hawke can’t heal worth a damn. You know full well that if ether you or Nakusa get hurt and I could have prevented it then I wouldn’t forgive myself.”

Fenris snarled at his lover, gaze hard as he got in Anders face. “No, you will not come with me. I’m not a child and you cannot control me. I’ll be back soon enough, and so help me if you disregard my wishes I will not be pleased, Anders.”

“Fenris...what’s this about? You were almost ass over teakettle in a hurry to get back home, now you’re dressing for battle and being a dick to Anders. What’s wrong?” Vic asked as he dropped the razor and turned to stare at the warrior.

“You know what is going on with Zevran and Isabela, he acted as if he’d never see me again. You seemed unconcerned even when I pointed it out. I am going to the Hanged Man, and neither of you will stop me,” Fenris snapped.

Anders blinked, confused. “I’m not trying to control you, love - and I wouldn’t dream of trying to stop you. I just want to go with you in case someone gets hurt and needs healing. I don’t understand - why are you snapping at me, love? Why are you angry with me?” His amber eyes regarded Fenris with an expression of bewildered hurt.

Fenris pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to calm himself. “Because the longer I wait here, who knows what will have happened to Zevran. You nearly fucking died twice, I am not going to put you in danger because I’m worried. I just want to check on him, and hopefully realize I am being stupid, then come home. Why ...why can’t anyone ever just trust that I know what I’m talking about?” 

“Fenris.. love... how many times have you almost died? And when have I ever stood in your way when you took up your sword? Would you have me never leave this house again?” asked Anders softly. “I trust you, I just want to be there for you or Nakusa - or Zevran if needed. I hope that you’re mistaken and there’s nothing wrong - but if you’re right,then Zev might need a healer if he’s in trouble.” He regarded Fenris steadily. “Please love. Let me help.”

Nakusa chose that moment to walk in, pulling his shirt back on as he tossed his damp hair over his shoulder, in time to hear Anders’ last words. “Good point, my brother; if Zevran is hurt then a healer would be useful. I know very little of healing.”

“Fine, no one regards my wishes. Be ready in ten minutes or I’m leaving you all here.” Fenris left them all to pace in the foyer and to calm himself. He knew he was wrong, he knew he would have to apologize but he had a sinking feeling that Zevran had done something incredibly stupid to even things out with Isabela.

Anders descended the stairs, Nakusa at his side. Anders had paused only to change his tatty old coat for one of the new ones Fenris had bought for him just before their trip, whilst Nakusa was wearing a spare leather tunic Fenris recognised as being one of Invictus’ spares from his mercenary days, cinched in with a wide leather belt he suspected was Anders’. Nakusa was sliding a pair of Invictus’ daggers into paired sheaths on the belt.

Anders nodded to Fenris grimly. “I pray you’re wrong about this,” he said quietly. “But I learned long ago to trust your instincts.”

Fenris glanced guiltily at his lovers and sibling, before he apologized to them for being so snappish. “It’s no excuse, but I hope you will forgive me.”

Anders’ eyes softened slightly as he bent down to kiss Fenris lightly upon the lips. “Always, love,” he whispered.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” the elf whispered as he glanced to the others.

“It’s alright, our little adventure has pushed us all past our limits. Let’s go, and pray your instincts are wrong this time.” Vic said.

“Believe me, no-one will be happier than I if it turns out I’m not needed,” remarked Anders as they headed out.

There was no sign of either Isabela or Zevran at the Hanged Man; Varric greeted them with surprise and a welcoming grin that slipped from his face as he took in their expressions.

“Sorry, Broody, I had no idea any of you were even back yet, much less laid eyes on Rivaini or Ser Crow,” he said apologetically. 

“They said they were coming here, why did he lie to me?” Fenris rasped before he turned to go, but he had no clue where to look for them.

“Love, _Isabela_ said she was coming here. Zevran was just tagging along with her. He didn’t lie to you, she obviously didn’t come straight here,” said Anders. “Think, love. Where else would Isabela go?”

“Knowing Rivaini, probably the docks to find out what ships are in port,” replied Varric with a shrug. “You know how she is.”

“We were all tired, she said she was coming here to check on her rooms. Where could they have stopped that would take this long?” Fenris paced in a circle as he tried to figure out where they could be. Even if they’d gone to the docks, they should have been at the Hanged Man already.

“Love, come on it’s probably nothing. Why don’t we have a drink and wait a little bit for them? Maybe we’re just wrong?” Vic offered.

Anders looked at Fenris, then reached for his staff. “I’m ready, love,” he said quietly. “Let’s go find him.”

“I don’t even know where to look except maybe the docks, how the fuck am I supposed to find him in the maze of ships and cargo?” Fenris stared at the ceiling for a moment, his patience beyond gone as he considered whether he wanted to continue to search or wait.

“Do you have anything of his?” asked Nakusa quietly.

Fenris shook his head no, anything material of the other elf was with him.

Anders reached out and, daringly, gave Fenris’ ponytail a light tug. As the elf whipped around with an outraged look, Anders merely asked, “Where did you get that hair tie, Fenris? That’s not one of mine; mine are all leather.” He lifted an eyebrow and waited for the elf to connect the dots.

“Oh...I forgot,” Fenris replied as he watched Anders hand the tie off to his sibling.

Nakusa studied the silk cord then nodded. “I do not know where Zevran is - but I can take us to him with this.”

“Won’t that hurt you brother?” Fenris asked even as he approached his sibling with hope.

“How about I stay here to wait on them, and you three trail after Zevran?” Vic offered.

Nakusa shrugged. “What other choice do we have?” he asked Fenris. “Yes, it will hurt - but I am willing.”

Anders glanced at Fenris, then hesitantly laid a hand on Nakusa’s forearm as lightly as possible and swallowed hard.

Fenris took Nakusa’s other arm and smiled at him. “Thank you.”

Invictus stepped back and tugged Varric with him. “Trust me, you don’t want to be too close.”

As Nakusa’s brands lit up, Fenris heard Anders gasp a hasty deep breath, and then there came the familiar sickening jump and sideways lurch. The room blurred and then they all stumbled as they reappeared in the dimly-lit confines of what appeared to be a mostly-empty warehouse. The stench of fish and seawater told them they were near the docks, but the sharp coppery tang of blood told them that whatever had happened, they were late.

Anders staggered and sat down hard on the dusty floor, clutching his stomach as he breathed hard through his nose, taking slow deep breaths so as not to vomit. “Not fun,” he muttered.

As Fenris staggered, he managed to keep his feet; as he slowly turned to stare about him, his eyes fell on the form of someone in the shadows sitting slumped against a wall, a dark pool of something spreading slowly upon the floor and soaking into the dirt.

“No, no, no…” Fenris said as he dashed over to find Zevran, eyes closed, but still warm and breathing. “Zevran...what happened?” 

The former Crow opened his eyes slowly and blinked. One hand was pressed against his ribs; his linen shirt was soaked through with blood on that side. The left sleeve was ripped open at the shoulder; a deep cut was weeping blood sluggishly but it was the wound in his side that seemed to be the source of the blood in which Fenris was now kneeling.

“An opportunistic attack,” he gasped softly. “It seems some of my enemies were still here in Kirkwall waiting, and when Isabela left me they took their chance.” He smiled faintly. “You are a sight for sore eyes, _carissimi_ , though I fear you have found me only in time to say farewell.” He coughed, and the foam that came to his lips was blood-flecked.

“Not just yet, Zevran,” said Anders breathlessly as he threw himself down on Zevran’s other side next to Fenris. “Just hold on, don’t try to speak.” He was reaching out towards Zevran, his hands already surrounded by the silvery-blue glow of healing magic.

“Hold on, please.” Fenris begged as he held Zevran close to him and whispered softly in the elf’s ear while Anders worked. Zevran’s breath was harsh and laboured, but slowly as Anders worked to raw back together rent flesh and torn muscle, weaving new skin and shunting blood out of the elf’s lungs, his breathing grew easier and quieter even as Zevran grew heavier in Fenris’ arms and his eyes closed. 

Anders finally sat back and brushed hair out of his eyes with a sigh, unheeding that he’d just smeared Zevran’s blood across his forehead. “He’s out of danger now, but he’ll need time and rest to recover. If we’d gotten here even a few minutes later, I might not have been able to do anything.” The blond apostate slumped a little, drained after healing so soon following the jump.

Nakusa had come to stand by Anders as he worked, and he laid a steadying hand on the mage’s shoulder. “I can transport us all back to Hawke’s house if Anders will spare just a little more magic,” he suggested. “We can send word to Hawke from there.” His face was drawn with pain, but he held out his other hand to his brother.

“Won’t that hurt you even more?” Fenris asked as he pulled Zevran into his arms with a grunt. “I’ll carry him back, don’t hurt yourself, let’s just walk to the Hanged Man.”

“I am not certain Anders could walk that far after expending such energies healing,” replied Nakusa. “I need but a little magic to take us directly to your bedroom, and then we can all rest.”

“Alright...just don’t overdo it.” Fenris whispered as he felt Nakusa take his arm and the tug of his siblings brands against his own.

Anders closed his eyes as he drew on his magic, opening himself up as a conduit that Nakusa could draw on directly. There was a flash of lyrium-silver light, the familiar tugging and shifting sensation; and then they were in the bedroom in the mansion. Nakusa staggered as he let go of both Fenris and Anders as the mage collapsed upon his back on the floor before slowly rolling onto his side, his body racked by a fit of coughing.

Fenris staggered and nearly dropped Zevran as he tried to regain his footing. “Let’s get you cleaned up and in a warm bed.” He turned to the other men to check on them first. “Do you need help before I get him cleaned up?”

Nakusa managed to make it over to the bed, sitting down suddenly on the edge as he clutched at his head. He lifted a hand indicating he would be alright. “Just... need a moment,” he gasped.

Anders was still coughing, huddled on the floor with his arms wrapped around his ribs as he gasped for breath between each paroxysm, unable to answer for the moment.  
“Anders…” Fenris set Zevran down carefully on the floor before he went over to his mage lover. “Love, open your eyes, look at me.”

“Can’t..” he wheezed between hacking coughs. “Can’t...catch my breath....”

“What do you need?” Fenris tried to help him up, unsure if he should even tug on the blond. “What made this happen?”

“Need... upright...air,” Anders gasped. “No idea....not been right since Se- Se-” He couldn’t finish, the words stealing valuable breath he could ill afford.

“Since Seheron,” said Nakusa quietly. 

“Solona...whatever she did to you has affected your healing,” Fenris said as he helped Anders up. Anders leaned against him, one hand clutching at Fenris as the other still hugged his ribs. He managed to draw a shaky breath.

“Don’t try to speak,” said Nakusa quietly. “I shall go speak to the servants and have someone sent to fetch Invictus.”

“Take it easy, just slow and steady. I’ll sit here as long as you need me, as long as you both need me.” Fenris said.

Anders shook his head. “No... I’ll be fine in a minute,” he panted. “Help me to the window... the chair.... fresh air....”

Nakusa rose and opened the window, then headed downstairs in search of the dwarven seneschal.

Fenris did as he was asked, careful to skirt around the Antivan elf laid out on their floor. Once he had Anders in a chair, he sat next to him and sighed. “Ironic, that Zevran lies there once more injured and bleeding just like when this started,” the elf remarked.

“We have come full circle,” murmured Zevran quietly from the floor as he opened his eyes slowly and gazed at the ceiling. “And so it goes on....” He sighed and closed his eyes again.

“I’m going to go find the bottom of some Starkhaven Malt; excuse me love,” Fenris replied shakily as he headed for the sideboard.

“I would ask for some also, except I find myself currently quite unable to move. Your rug is quite comfortable, _carissimi_ ,” observed Zevran absently. Anders glanced over at him but said nothing, too intent on trying to get his breathing back under control. He was no longer coughing, but his breath wheezed on each exhalation, each indrawn breath still a faint gasp.

“I’ll pour you some.” Fenris said absently as he took a sip from the bottle then joined Zevran on the floor. “Alright for him to have a drink?” 

Anders nodded, not trusting himself to speak yet. Though Maker knew, he could have used a drink himself;the alcohol would probably relax his muscles enough to allow him to draw a proper breath. He glanced out the window and wondered how long it would take to get a messenger to Invictus at the Hanged Man.

Fenris tipped a bit into the other elf’s mouth, then offered the bottle to his other lover. Anders accepted it with a grateful look and took a sip, then another; the strong spirit burned warmingly as it slipped down his throat, and as he took a third, larger mouthful and passed the bottle back to Fenris he could feel himself starting to relax, his chest feeling a little less tight.

Nakusa returned to the room and paused in the doorway, taking in the sight of Fenris on the floor with Zevran. He shook his head with a faint sigh and made his way over to them both. Plucking the bottle out of Fenris’ fingers, he handed it to Anders then scooped up his surprised brother to deposit him on the bed, followed by Zevran, before handing the bottle back to Fenris. Then he made his way over to where Anders sat, and he dropped down to the floor to sit with his back against the leg of Anders’ chair, closing his eyes wearily.

Anders looked down at him and blinked.

Fenris blinked, surprised to find himself on the bed, and with Zevran plopped next to him. The Antivan opened his eyes and glanced at Fenris, just as surprised, and then lifted a hand to mutely request the bottle. Fenris handed the bottle over and let his head hit the bed with a soft thump. 

"Now, I'm... I'm not moving for a week," stated Fenris.

They sat and lay in companionable silence, Zevran and Fenris passing the bottle between them, the only sound that of Anders’ laboured breathing as it slowly calmed to something approximating normal. Anders was slowly drifting off to sleep in the chair as Invictus finally arrived, taking the stairs to the bedroom two at a time, Varric following at a slower pace behind.

Fenris sat up at the sound of the door, but flopped back when he saw it was only Invictus. 

"Makers balls you had me worried. "

Anders opened his eyes drowsily, glancing over to Invictus as the other mage took a couple of steps into the room then halted, his gaze going to the two elves on the bed and then to Anders, as if unsure who to go to first. Anders glanced over to Fenris and Zevran.

“Help Anders, something wrong with him..healing, hurts him.” Fenris murmured before he rolled back to his side and carefully curled against Zevran.

“What do you mean? You can’t heal now?” Vic asked as he crouched by the other apostate.

Anders shook his head. “No... can still heal. It takes more out of me though. Everything does, but particularly that. Between healing Zev then giving Nakusa the energy to get us all here, I couldn’t stop coughing and then I couldn’t catch my breath. Now I’m as exhausted as if I’d spent a full day in the clinic with a pit collapse and a chokedamp episode.” He wheezed slightly as if his body felt it necessary to emphasise the point.

“Alright, I’m going to start a hot bath, whoever didn’t get cleaned up is going in. Anders, you first and no arguments.” Vic turned to start the bath going. 

“You’re not our dad.” Fenris muttered from the bed, half-awake.

“Indeed - thank the Maker,” muttered Anders fervently. “Hawke has never locked me in a cellar and then handed me over to the templars.” 

“We’re gonna have a long talk about that.” Vic replied as he came back in to scoop Anders up and take him into the bath. Anders let out a startled, slightly breathless yell as he felt himself being manhandled and clutched at Invictus. 

“I can walk!” he protested.

“I want to take care of you, and dammit I’m going to. Hush and let me do this. Fenris is drunk, Nakusa is exhausted and Zevran looks half dead still. Besides, you need to save your energy for being a toppy bastard later.” Vic grinned devilishly at the other mage before he set him down.

Anders gave Invictus a dubious look. “I don’t trust you when you grin like that,” he said dourly, but nonetheless he began to undress. 

“What did you want to have a long talk about?” he asked over his shoulder as he stepped into the tub. As he settled into the hot, steaming water he let out a long, heartfelt groan. “Oh Maker. I so needed this.”

“You said your father called the templars on you? I never knew that…” Vic said as he stripped off and started to rinse so he could join his lover.

“Ah. That,” said Anders quietly. “Yes, he did. I was thirteen.”

“Thirteen? What, what made him turn you in?” Vic asked in shock.

Anders stared at his hands beneath the water. “Oh, the usual. Set the barn on fire, was conspicuously not normal, had the nerve to be born a mage.” He laughed hollowly. “He beat me for hours then threw me in the cellar and left me there until the templars could be bothered to pick me up two days later. My mother -” He broke off and closed his eyes. “Can we please talk about something else?” he asked softly.

“Of course love,” Vic was brisk but careful as he scrubbed Anders back, his mind on how he could make the other mage forget such things, if even for a few hours. 

“Taken at thirteen, Harrowed at fifteen. It’s a wonder I survived at all,” Anders mused, half to himself. “And there are thousands of children like me. There’ll be thousands more. Somewhere out there, there’s some frightened boy facing the Harrowing on the morning who doesn’t know if he’ll live to see the day after, some girl crying for the mother she’ll never see again. Who’ll learn to fear the sound of a footstep outside the door, the dark spaces, the -”

He broke off and drew a shuddering breath as he felt Invictus’ hand laid over his own with a light, gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I’m tired and I’m getting too caught up and... and I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be burdening you with this. We should be happy we’re all safe and home again. You don’t need to hear me ranting on about the injustices of the Circle again.”

“You can rant all you want, I’m just glad you’re still here to do it. Duck down, let me rinse your hair.” Vic asked quietly.

Meanwhile Varric had settled in the chair vacated by Anders, his gaze on the three elves in the room, landing more on Nakusa than his sibling or the Antivan. Nakusa had shifted away from the chair when Invictus swept Anders up and off to the bathing chamber, and now was curled up on the end of the bed near his brother’s feet, dozing, his face buried in his arms and the red hair streaked with white scattered over the bedspread.

Vic finished bathing quickly so he could help Anders up and out. He was thoughtful as he rubbed the blond mage down, and wrapped him in a thick towel. “Better love?” 

“Much,” nodded Anders. He was growing drowsy again thanks to a combination of the hot bath and his exhaustion. “That bed is calling me, I swear it....”

“I think it’s calling all of us, Fenris is out, Zevran is close behind and I’m thinking about it.” Vic scooped him up again and put him in bed with a nudge at the two elves atop the covers.

“This bed can hold four, someone help me get Zevran up and washed up so he can rest. Varric can you help Nakusa to the guest room next door please?” 

“Sure thing, Hawke. You do collect some interesting people on your travels,” the dwarf mused as he nudged Nakusa to wake him up. “I’m sure there’s a fascinating story behind all this that I can’t wait to hear.” He smiled and coaxed the sleepy elf out of the room.

Zevran was deeply asleep, his chest barely stirring with each breath. As Anders climbed into the bed, he daringly chanced giving the former Crow’s shoulder a shake. Zevran did not stir.

Fenris didn’t move at all, not even when Invictus moved him to be in the middle of them all. “Thanks Varric, I’ll come around in a couple days, or if you want to come by for dinner, we can catch you up.” Vic whispered as he finally curled around his lovers and closed his eyes. Anders was already asleep, curled on his side and snoring faintly, one hand lightly touching Fenris’ hand.

“No problem Hawke. You all sleep well. I’ll look forward to the tale.” He drew the door closed behind him, but the room was filled only with the sounds of peaceful sleepers.


	32. Chapter 32

Fenris woke up with a start, his mouth was dry and he was confused when he turned one way and found Zevran curled against him, and another to find Anders to his other side. He tried to get up and not disturb them, but the room spun as he fumbled around in the dark. “Maker kill me now,” he mumbled when he nearly wound up on his ass instead of feet.

Anders opened his eyes as he reached for Fenris and found him gone. “Love?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep.

“Down here, room… won’t hold still,” the elf moaned pitifully. 

Anders raised himself up on one elbow so he could peer over Zevran’s still form; he gestured, and a small, dim globe of magelight drifted from his hand to illuminate the room softly.

“Won’t it be hilarious if I die from drink, not a full day after surviving our trip?” Fenris gritted out as he tried to get a handle on the bed, anything solid so he could crawl to the privy.

“Not particularly,” answered Anders. “Hang on; Zevran’s still dead to the world I think, and I guess so is Hawke given that you climbed out between us without waking him.” He held his breath and began to carefully climb over Zevran, hoping he wouldn’t suddenly decide right now would be the perfect time to slip into his usual light sleeping habits and respond murderously from instinct, but the former Crow was dead to the world.

“Come on, let’s have you up,” said Anders gently as he got a hand beneath Fenris’ elbow and helped him to his feet. The small ball of magelight bobbed gently on ahead of them as they made their way down the hall.

“I’m going to die, just leave me here,” Fenris moaned pitifully.

“What, and let you piss your smallclothes in the middle of the hallway?” Anders snorted. “I think not. You’ve got me out of bed, so come on.”

He managed to get the still-drunk elf to the privy and got the door open. “ _Please_ tell me you can manage this unaided,” said Anders plaintively.

“Yes, I’m not that hung over.” Fenris griped as he shut the door and took care of himself.

Anders leaned against the wall outside the door and tried not to listen to some of the slightly disturbing noises and groans Fenris made. When he heard the elf retch he grimaced and hoped the elf wouldn’t need help washing afterwards. He thought longingly of the nice warm bed they’d left, then sighed quietly and resigned himself to being the dutiful boyfriend. It could have been worse, he reflected; at least it wasn’t Hawke. He didn’t think he could have wrangled the powerfully-built mage up from the floor. For a mage Hawke would have made a pretty imposing warrior.

Fenris came out in a few minutes, looking a little pale but alright. “Take me back to bed.”

Anders merely lifted an eyebrow then slung an arm around Fenris’ waist and they started back towards the bedroom. “Better out than in,” he quipped quietly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Fenris griped tiredly.

Anders held his tongue as he helped Fenris back to bed then climbed in next to him. He leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to his love’s forehead before he let his head drop back onto the pillow with a low groan.

Fenris closed his eyes and fell asleep until the smell of food brought him awake. “Food?” he muttered as he sat up, rubbed his eyes and sat up to find only Zevran was next to him, the others had left them to sleep.

Zevran’s eyes opened slowly. “What a wonderful idea, _carissimi_ ,” he said as he stretched, arching his back off the mattress before sinking back down and turning his head upon the pillow to smile at Fenris.

“Feeling better now?” Fenris asked before he leaned in to kiss the rogue. 

Zevran returned the kiss slowly and yet passionately, as if rediscovering the taste of Fenris all over again. He only drew away when they both needed to breathe. “Much,” he agreed, a small twinkle in his eye.

“Good, after we have something to eat maybe we can test how good you feel?” Fenris asked with a leer.

Zevran laughed. “We shall have to see what our personal physician has to say on that score, hmm?” he teased. “But if Anders thinks me sufficiently recovered....” He grinned.

“If he doesn’t decide to insist I nail him first you mean.” Fenris teased, his smile easy as he slipped from bed and tugged Zevran long with him.

“We are both presuming Hawke is not busy nailing him, as you so charmingly put it, right over the breakfast table this very minute.” Zevran gave Fenris a wink as he slipped out of bed.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Fenris quipped as he headed down to the kitchen, ears perked just in case Vic decided to have a little fun with breakfast. He stopped mid-way down as the sounds of Anders’ moans and the tell-tale sound of flesh on flesh reached him. “Well, so much for a quiet breakfast.” he murmured.

Invictus had indeed bent Anders over the table and was pounding into the blond apostate mercilessly. The dark-skinned mage had a fist full of Anders’ hair and was pulling it firmly as Anders braced himself against the table, his hands splayed upon the wooden surface. His head was forced up and back by Invictus’ grasp in his hair, and his eyes were closed, his lips parted, a faint frown upon his face, lost entirely in the sensations he was experiencing as the other mage drove into his willing body hard enough to cause the table to shift upon the flagstone floor.

As Fenris paused in the doorway, Invictus brought his free hand down hard on Anders’ flank with a resounding crack; Anders’ eyes flew open, the pupils large and dark as he cried out again and then moaned.

“I...I...damn.” Fenris gasped as he watched them, each smack of Invictus’ hips nudged the table just a bit further away. He found he couldn’t move, or stop watching. 

A particularly forceful thrust caused the table to suddenly skid out from beneath Anders; he fell to his hands and knees, Invictus following him down. The larger man didn’t so much as break pace, even as the blonde mage braced his hands against the hard stones and lifted his head, his eyes fluttering open to finally focus on Fenris. He opened his lips to speak, but as Invictus’ hand struck his thigh again over the reddening mark of his hand he could only cry out. Anders lifted one hand mutely towards Fenris as he panted.

Fenris moved only when he felt Zevran nudge him forward. He took his lovers hand in his, surprised at the strength in the blond’s grip. “What do you need?” 

Zevran crouched down next to Fenris. “Look at his eyes, _carissimi_ ; I am not sure he is entirely capable of words, no?”

Anders clung onto Fenris’ hand, and lowered his head as he panted, his glazed eyes staring into space.

Fenris slipped under his mage so he could let Anders touch as he pleased while he stroked the mage slow and easy, a counterpoint to Vic’s hard thrusts. “Come for us love.” he whispered.

Anders whimpered, his hips jerking as he thrust into Fenris’ hands. His member was already weeping, and as Fenris breathed soft encouragement he clenched his eyes closed and shuddered as he came hard, with a hoarse cry.

“Good boy, such a good boy.” Fenris encouraged as he moved again so he could kiss Anders, show how much he was loved as Vic continued to work them both. “Beautiful, both of you.”

Anders returned the kiss, somewhat sloppy and uncoordinated as his chest heaved, panting hard. His arms were trembling as he braced himself against Invictus’ thrusts, each breath a ragged gasp. He murmured something that might have been Fenris’ name, half-articulated.

Fenris let his other mage wrap his arms around his shoulders as he stared in Anders’ eyes, urged the blond to keep contact with him as he praised him for being so good, for taking all Vic gave him, kissed him as he saw how close he was again, that he seemed to be on the verge of another climax. “Give it up for us, let Vic take you over again, be a good boy for us love.” the elf whispered in his ear.

Vic groaned as he tried to keep going so Anders could find his pleasure again, his own grunts loud as he called out for both lovers.

Anders’ breath was warm against Fenris’ skin as he buried his face against the side of the elf’s neck; his every exhalation a barely-heard invocation of Fenris’ name, chanted over and over as his body quivered. He tensed in Fenris’ arms then jerked with another cry, muffled against Fenris’ skin as he climaxed for the second time.

The elven warrior looked up to Vic with a smile. “Let go Vic, it’s ok,” Fenris urged as he kissed Anders slow, sloppily even through his cries as Vic stilled finally, slumped against the other mage as he tried to catch his breath. 

“Sorry, we...uh, got carried away,” he panted as he tried to straighten and gently pull away from both lovers. Anders was slumped limply against Fenris, his body sheened with sweat and still faintly trembling in small spasms in the aftermath of such intense lovemaking.

Zevran gently tugged Invictus upright and helped him into a nearby chair before disappearing from the room, reappearing with a clean towel from the laundry which he draped around Anders. He smiled at Fenris, then straightened and made his way over to the stove and set a kettle on.

“I’ll make something, you two just rest.” Fenris moved the table back where it belonged, then got to work with making something for all of them, especially something hearty for Anders since he’d expended most of the energy he’d regained. As the elf rose, the former Crow returned to Anders’ side, dropping down to kneel and gather up the bewildered mage who was blinking slowly, his eyes still a little glazed, and wondering where his white-haired elf had suddenly gone. Zevran tugged the towel around him a little tighter. 

“Shh, easy now, Fenris is still here,” he said softly. “Fenris and Invictus are both still here.” He glanced up at the other elf. “A glass of water, beloved?”

“Hmm, sure.” the elf passed Zevran water and a honeyed oat cake before he turned back to the skillet. “If you need me to leave this off, let me know.”

Vic sat up so he could help Zevran as well. “Is he alright?”

Anders was clinging to Zevran’s shirt, shivering and blinking back tears. He gulped thirstily at the water as the Antivan held the glass, then turned to press his face against Zevran’s shoulder, his shoulders shaking.

“Only a little overwhelmed I think,” replied Zevran gently. “He was fairly deep under, no? It takes a little while to wake up again.”

“Trade with me, I’ll sit with him.” Fenris slipped down next to his mage, offered him a fresh glass of cold water while he held him close. “I’m here, it’s alright love.”

Anders was softly trying to stammer an apology, unable to quite manage coherent speech yet as he clutched at Fenris. Zevran glanced back as he took over the skillet. “Perhaps you three should go back to the bedroom,” he suggested. “He will warm up faster in bed, and I can bring us all breakfast there, hmm?” He waved at the door with the spatula. “Go, I will follow soon with food.”

“Alright, if you can manage.” Fenris helped Anders up and nudged at Vic to follow. He reassured the blond every step of the way, even as he helped him stretch in bed. “Hold him for a bit, just going to get some hot towels to clean you both.” 

“Sure.” Vic took over as he watched the elf carefully, his actions gentle with their lover, slightly concerned with how deep Anders had slipped away from them. 

By the time Fenris returned, Anders was a little more himself, his eyes more focused as he glanced up and even managed to smile at Fenris.

“Sorry, love, I think I went a little deep that time. Hadn’t realised it was happening until I couldn’t talk.”

“Alright, glad to have you back with us. Did you have fun at least?” Fenris asked as he nuzzled at his lover.

Vic’s eyebrows rose as he saw the bloom of several hand shaped bruises on Anders’ buttocks and hips, surprised they were so dark against his pale skin. “I might have gotten carried away myself, I’m sorry love.”

Anders glanced down. “Oh,” was all he could manage, staring at the bruises. He hadn’t been bruised like that in a long time. It ached deliciously now, but he knew from past experience it would be less pleasant later on as he stiffened up. He shrugged; he would worry about that later. “You gave me what I needed,” he replied as he leaned up to reassure Invictus with a kiss.

“What’s going on?” murmured a voice from the doorway; as they glanced up, Nakusa stumbled in, rubbing one eye blearily.

Fenris froze as he heard his sibling’s voice. Anders and Vic were barely decent and he wasn’t sure what the other elf might have heard. “Nothing, nothing is going on.”

Nakusa blinked as he stared at Anders; though Invictus had tugged the down comforter up hurriedly when he heard the scarred elf’s voice, his sharp blue eyes had picked out the livid dark colour of the bruises on Anders’ hip that peeked just above the edge of the cover, even sleep-fogged as his gaze was.

“What did....” he broke off, and then he coloured. “Oh. I am intruding. Forgive me.” He began to back out of the room hastily.

“It’s fine, you just surprised us is all.” Fenris slipped off the bed and turned his sibling towards the stairs. “Come, let’s help Zevran with breakfast while they get more rest.” 

Once they had gone, Anders curled up closer to Invictus, letting his head drop onto the other mage’s shoulder. He sighed softly, then smiled as he felt Invictus’ hand slowly stroke gently across the bruises as if in mute apology for having marked him. 

“You did not intrude brother, all is well with us. Did you sleep alright?” Fenris asked as he entered the kitchen to find it as if nothing had happened just a short time before. Zevran was busily cooking as though he were at home there and hadn’t at all just usurped Bodahn’s place. The dwarven seneschal was staring at the Antivan elf in some perplexion; as Fenris and Nakusa appeared, he hurried over.

“Master Fenris, I must protest! I can’t have this kind of carry on in the kitchen!”

“It’s alright Bohdan, we’ll keep such things out of the kitchen, I apologize for Invictus and Anders.” Fenris stammered as he tried to scoot past the dwarf and help the former Crow dish up their meal. 

Bodahn blinked. “Oh, I don’t mean _that_ , serah,” he exclaimed. “I mean _that_!” he gesticulated wildly towards Zevran, who was just sampling a little of the porridge he’d made. He turned as Bodahn gestured at him in outrage and grinned unrepentantly.

“I think friend Bodahn is objecting to my invasion of his customary domain and role, _carissimi_ ,” he smiled. “My apologies, ser Dwarf. We shall vacate your demesne shortly.” He sketched an elaborate bow in Bodahn’s direction as the dwarf shook his head and stalked off towards the pantry muttering about guests who didn’t know their place.

“Oh, oh.” Fenris replied as what the dwarf meant sunk in. “I...it’s alright, he’ll be out of the way soon.” he turned to Nakusa as if he remembered his sibling all of a sudden. “Nakusa, he’s in charge of the household, if you require anything please let Bodhan know.”

“The young serah and I have met,” Bodahn’s voice drifted back from the pantry, followed by the dwarf himself as he re-emerged with a wooden bowl filled with fresh, crisp apples. “He bade me send for Master Hawke yesterday afternoon to help Master Zevran here.” he turned to Zevran. “And I must say it’s good to see you back on your feet again, Master Zevran; Sandal and I were most worried for you and Master Anders yesterday.”

“It is good to be back on my feet again,” replied Zevran as he began dishing out bowls of porridge and plates of bacon, mushrooms and potato cakes on a large tray. “I shall be out of your way very shortly, Bodahn.”

“Oh, tut, serah, leave the tray,” ordered Bodahn as he flipped a teacloth at the elf. “You go on up; Sandal and I shall bring up the food and a good pot of tea for you all. Go on, shoo, shoo!”

“I think he means business, let us go back upstairs then.” Fenris ushered the other elves out as he avoided their seneschal’s ire. “He’s terrifying for a small man.”

“Small of stature, great of heart - and like all good cooks, fiercely territorial and protective of his domain,” replied Zevran with a smile.

“Remind me of that when he’s not home and I can make a meal without him kicking me out.” Fenris said with a smile.

“Brother, what do you do exactly? Hawke seems to be important in this city.” Nakusa asked as they returned to the room and found a comfortable chair to rest in.

Zevran chuckled. “Yes, Fenris, tell your brother just what it is you do.” He made his way over to the windowsill where he pressed himself up against the drapes and glanced down at the street below from sheer force of habit.

A faint snore from the bed interrupted Fenris before he could gather his thoughts to reply. Anders was curled loosely about Invictus, fast asleep once more.

“Hush, you’re enjoying this far too much.” Fenris glanced over at the assassin then back at his sibling. 

“We ...I, we mostly kill people. Bad people but, now that I think about it, we kill people, loot the bodies and a lot of people come to Hawke to fix their problems.” Fenris groaned and covered his face.

Nakusa frowned slightly, then glanced at Invictus. “Then... you are nobility? You have influence in the senate here in Kirkwall? You must be very powerful if you have had Fenris kill so many for you. Is that what you wish me to do also now I am here? You have further rivals you must eliminate?” Nakusa’s face indicated he was entirely serious.

There was a choking sound from Zevran who hastily buried his face in the velvet drapes. His shoulders shook with repressed laughter.

Vic frowned at the Antivan elf before he turned to Nakusa with a sigh. “First, let’s get you comfortable here, and once you know your way around, we can figure out what you are good at and what you like to do. I’m...sort of noble, my mother was and we reclaimed her name and this estate. Right now I’d settle for breakfast and more sleep, before I set you loose on the city.”

“And breakfast is what you shall have, Master Hawke!” beamed Bodahn as he entered laden with a large tray, Sandal following behind with a second. They set them down on the side table. “Will you be wanting anything else, young masters? Oh bless him, poor Master Anders is asleep again! You do tire him out so, Master Hawke. Be sure to make sure he eats something; I’d be delighted to cook him a little something extra later on if need be.” Having delivered his admonishment, Bodahn smiled at them all then withdrew, tugging Sandal with him.

“Yes, Master Hawke, stop tiring out young Master Anders so,” chuckled Zevran as he turned around again. He looked at the expression on Invictus’ face and burst out laughing. 

“Be glad I’ve come to like you Zevran.” Hawke said before he joined the former Crow’s outburst.

“I never thought I’d see this, ever.” Fenris said in surprise. He stood there and watched two of the men he loved carrying on as if they’d been friends for ages, instead of for a scant couple of months.

Anders lifted his head and blinked drowsily, his hair dishevelled. “See what?” he asked, voice a little slurred from sleep.

“These two, laughing, being friends,” Fenris replied, still a bit stunned at the sight in front of him. 

“Were they not always friends brother?” Nakusa asked as he made straight for the tray and the delicious smelling food.

“No, on my last arrival in this room, Hawke and Fenris were quite content to sit and watch me breathe my last as I expired upon the carpet,” replied Zevran. “I’m glad to see good Bodahn was able to get the bloodstains out of the carpet,” he added with a small half-smile. “It was young Master Anders -” he smirked a little, “who managed to persuade them that he would not wish to see me dead even if they did. Though they did not exactly make my stay particularly comfortable. It was... a misunderstanding of sorts, and one that is long past now. Isabela is free, and Hawke’s debt to me has been discharged. All slates have been wiped clean, I think.” His smile became a little distant as he turned back to the window, his left hand lifting almost of its own accord to brush across the newly-healed scar upon his right shoulder.

“I’d say so,” Fenris replied from his spot next to Anders as he tried to coax the mage to sit up and take a plate for himself so he could eat.

“Rather glad too,” mused Anders as he sat up slowly. He spotted the bowl of apples and his face lit up. “Bodahn is a treasure,” he smiled.

“If I can get him out of the kitchen long enough, I’ll make your favorite pie for you.” Fenris offered between bites of his food, and the almost indecent sounds he made at having a good meal.

Anders made an indecent sound of his own, then began wolfing down his breakfast.

“Don’t choke, it’s not going anywhere love.” Fenris cautioned even as he took in his own meal almost as fast as Anders was doing.

“Neither of you choke, I’d rather not have to save you from something like that after surviving the last few months.” Vic set his empty plate aside before he curled up against Anders with a content sigh.

Zevran glanced back over his shoulder, his fingers still tracing the scar absently. “Ah, but you _did_ survive it. We all did. Perhaps not unscathed,” he shrugged, glancing down at the barely-healed flesh and the raised line of scar tissue that bisected the blackwork tattoo before glancing back up at Invictus, “But here we are, and we yet breathe. That is victory, no?”

“Yes, yes it is.” Vic murmured as he cuddled closer to his mage lover and closed his eyes in contentment. 

“I think someone needs a nap, especially after he wore out our former warden,” Fenris said with a telling glance at Zevran. “Perhaps we can find something to do while they rest, _carissimi_?” 

Anders waggled a finger sternly at Zevran. “That scar is barely healed and so is the one over your ribs. You lost a lot of blood before I got to you. If you do something to undo my hard work I shall be most put out.” He glared at Zevran.

“I am sure we can find a... not too taxing way to pass the time, my friend,” shrugged Zevran. 

“Says the one I found getting shagged so hard he couldn’t speak earlier.” Fenris groused under his breath.

Anders raised an eyebrow. “I was tired. I wasn’t wounded, and I certainly hadn’t just lost several pints of blood in two attacks. A bit of food, a bit more sleep and I’ll be fine. If Zevran reopens that stab wound between his ribs he will be very far from fine. You be careful - both of you.”

“Alright, alright.” Fenris muttered as he got up and headed for the door. “I’ll be in the study, join me when you are ready.” With that he left, mind wrapped up in how he could have fun with Zevran but not injure him.

Anders sighed and lay back against the pillows, glancing over towards Zevran. “Please take it easy,” he said quietly. “We should save my healing abilities for desperate need. I can’t afford to just casually heal every little scrape and bruise as I once did.”

Zevran inclined his head. “Just so. We will be careful, my friend. You should rest.”

Anders nodded as he closed his eyes. As Zevran made his way to the door, Anders spoke again. 

“When are you going to tell him how you got the scar on your shoulder?”

Zevran paused. “You knew.”

“You think I couldn’t tell that the first wound was inflicted a good hour before the second?” Anders snorted. “Some healer I would be if I couldn’t tell a fresh wound from one that had already started healing, or work out how long ago it had been inflicted from the clotting. It’s up to you how and when you tell him, but I warn you, Zev - don’t wait too long. Fenris hates to be left in the dark.” He smiled ruefully, his eyes closed. “Trust me on this.”

“I will bear that in mind,” said Zevran quietly.


	33. Chapter 33

Fenris paced in the study as he waited for Zevran, his mind still tied up in all they had gone through. Invictus didn’t seem in a hurry to send the Antivan packing, and Fenris wasn’t ready to part ways. He knew the other elf wouldn’t be content to remain there with them long, he wasn’t one to sit around when there more to do. What if he wanted to travel with Isabela, or needed to flee those who hounded him? So many what ifs and unknowns preoccupied the Tevinter warrior and kept him from hearing the subject of his thoughts enter the room.

“So restless, my _carissimi_ ,” said Zevran softly.

“One of these days you all will stop sneaking up on me.” Fenris said as he tried to keep himself from jumping at the sound of his lover’s voice. 

“Ah, but where would be the fun in that?” smiled Zevran. He hitched up one hip to perch on the corner of Invictus’ desk. “What troubles you?”

“More like what doesn’t trouble me is more like it.” Fenris replied as he poured Zevran a drink before he sunk into his favorite chair.

“Hmm, perhaps I should have asked what it is that troubles you particularly at this moment,” pondered Zevran before taking a sip.

Fenris took another sip to fortify himself, his gaze averted as he admitted that he was worried for what the future held for them, or might not hold. He looked up at the other elf, fearful and worried.

The smile had slipped from Zevran’s face and for once he looked serious and thoughtful. “I understand your fears, _carissimi_. I am something of a wanderer, it is true; and there are matters I must attend to that have been put off too long - of which I have been reminded a little too forcefully,” he added, one hand drifting up briefly to brush over his ribs before he lowered it again. “I have discharged one debt, repaid another; and now there are others to whom I owe a debt of another kind - a reminder that though I am Crow no longer, I am not food for crows.” A brief, feral grin, all teeth and no mirth, flashed across his face and was gone as swiftly as it came. 

“But I can spare a little time more, _carissimi_ , and I would spend it with you - if that is your wish. And after all, even after I resolve this little matter plaguing me and return to Antiva, my business often leads me back to the Free Marches. I no longer have reason to call upon the Grey Wardens; though Solona lives after all, I think any reason I once had to return to her side was destroyed when she worked whatever spell she has woven on our friend Anders. I will trifle with many things and overlook much, but blood magic on a friend to whom I owe my life?” Zevran shook his head. “No. That I cannot overlook.”

“I understand, it is hard to hear and accept but I understand.” Fenris replied, his gaze dropped back to the fire in front of him as he struggled with his feelings. How had he gotten so attached to the other elf, and why did his heart feel so brittle at the truth he knew was coming.

Zevran laid aside his glass and dropped into a crouch at Fenris’ feet, one hand resting lightly upon the other elf’s knee as he stared up into the soft green eyes. “ _Carissimi_ , we both knew one day I would leave. I have a restless spirit; it would be almost like a little death to me to be trammelled in any one place too long. But wherever I go, I will leave my heart in Kirkwall - and a man cannot live too long without a heart, Fenris. No matter how far I go, I will always return to you. You understand this, yes? I did not give my heart without a care. I gave it to you, because I know you will treasure it and keep it safe, my love.” He smiled gently. “I love you,” he breathed softly.

Zevran’s admission broke what little hold Fenris had on his emotions, without thinking he slid down to hold the other elf in his arms as he admitted his own love for the Antivan. He simply held onto Zevran, his own words of adoration lost as his voice waivered with the tears he let free.

“Hush, my love; you cannot break now. Your heart must remain whole and strong, yes? I will not be gone forever. I will be back with you again before you know it. And this time there will be no Isabela and no knifemen in the dark to distract us, yes?” Zevran smiled and wiped the tears from Fenris’ face with his fingertips, his touch infinitely tender and light.

“Too late...I’ve been broken for a long time, and this, this is too much. How did this happen. how did I fall so completely for you, and Anders and Hawke? My heart is too full and it’s breaking at the thought of you leaving.” Fenris turned to brush a light kiss against the other elf’s fingers. “I’m sorry, you must think me a child, to weep like this over the thought of you leaving when we knew it had to be this way.”

Zevran shook his head with a sad smile. “No, my love; you weep for both of us, for I cannot. But no sorrow can live in my heart as long as I know you draw breath, and that we will have joy again beyond measure each time I return to you. I must leave on the morrow, but tonight I am yours.”

“You’re still injured, but if you will let me I’ll make it a night to remember.” Fenris whispered as he tried not to count the time they had left but enjoy the feeling of Zevran in his arms, real, warm and present.

Zevran’s warm smile as he leaned up to kiss Fenris was all the answer needed.

~ _Fin_. ~


End file.
